


the one my heart loves

by lettersfromnowhere



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, an excess of pining and stargazing, church retreat antics, teenage!AOS cast, youth ministry AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2020-07-30 03:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20090803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromnowhere/pseuds/lettersfromnowhere
Summary: Mack and Elena are both painfully aware that leading a church youth group on its annual summer retreat is never easy - take dozens of teenagers, a great deal of disinterest, a lake, and ample opportunities to be unsupervised, and one usually gets chaos. What they didn't count on? Finding love, only to lose touch within weeks.Their youth groups aren't about to let that happen, though. It's up to reluctant attendees and sweethearts Leo and Jemma, one from each youth group, along with boisterous pastor's kid Daisy and the rest of their youth group friends, to make sure their leaders' budding relationship gets a chance to flourish.(In which Elena and Mack work in youth ministry, lakes make for an excellent meet-cute backdrop, and the teenagers they mentor aren't about to let them lose their shot at romance.)





	1. Monday: Off-Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lake, a capsized canoe, and a reluctant camper make for a meet-cute no one saw coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been mulling over this idea for ages. I've always been really involved in my church youth group and know firsthand that our summer trips provide a treasure trove of fanfic-worthy experiences, so with two canon Christian characters on AOS...why not throw 'em into the crazy world of youth ministry? Plus, parent-trapping FitzSimmons - I couldn't resist. 
> 
> This might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I love it lots, and I hope at least some of you too. (Also: title is from Song of Solomon, because OF COURSE IT IS. 
> 
> Special thanks to @ohifonlyx33 for her support of this idea, and to @everyl1ttleth1ng for helping me to see that one needn't check one's faith at the door when writing fanfic. And to the two hours of emotional trauma that was the season 6 finale...without it I would not have been in dire need of some lighthearted AOS fun, and that's ultimately what drove me to write this.

“First Baptist Church! A moment more of your-“

A flurry of running feet and matching t-shirts burst out as thirty-two retreatants made a break for anything but their leader’s predictable, entirely unwelcome “please don’t start any fires or sneak anyone into your dorms after hours, and be back for worship at seven, please” lecture.

Mack couldn’t say he was surprised; suffice to say it his youth group had seen better years. This group was unusually small, with an abnormally dense population of kids who didn’t want to be there or ones whose behavior was often questionable, and keeping them in check – not to mention trying to ensure that they actually _learned _something on their annual summer retreat – was going to be a trial. With a long sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and followed the largest contingent of kids, who’d made a mad dash for the lake. The only girl in the group who’d hung back as requested tailed him.

“They’re idiots,” said Jemma, a quiet, fiercely intelligent 15-year-old who hadn’t particularly wanted to come. “I wish I had my water quality testing equipment. Then maybe they wouldn’t be so gung-ho about swimming in water that might have _brain-eating amoebae _in it.”

Mack couldn’t help but chuckle. Jemma was a tough one sometimes – her skeptical tendencies made that a certainty – but she never failed to make him laugh. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. They’re just canoeing right now.”

Jemma still wrinkled her nose in disgust. “But they could capsize-“

“Jemma. It’s okay. They wouldn’t let anyone in the water if it wasn’t safe.”

She clearly wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t say anything as they trooped down the dirt path past cabins and fire pits towards the lake. A well-worn dock jutted out into the water, where most of the youth groups at the retreat were already swimming, canoeing, and soaking up the sunshine and fresh country air. The First Baptist youth group perked up as they noticed their most reluctant member’s approach.

“Hey, Jemma! We need a third person for our canoe,” called Daisy, the pastor’s daughter – and perhaps Jemma’s only acquaintance of any substance in the group. “Wanna come with us?”

“Uh…I’m not wearing a bathing suit,” Jemma stammered, clearly fumbling for an excuse. “But thanks for inviting me.”

“Neither are we,” said Piper, the other member of Daisy’s canoe group. “Come _on…”_

Jemma shook her head apprehensively. “No, thanks…I think I’ll sit this one out.”

Daisy, not content to take no for an answer, grinned as she clambered from her canoe, still moored, and grabbed the nearest plank to pull herself up onto the dock. Jemma, anticipating her next move, began to move as far away from the water as she could, but Daisy had a decided edge over Jemma in athleticism (she’d been a varsity volleyball starter since 10th grade) and she was on her before Jemma could get out of the way. She grabbed her arm and began to pull her towards the edge of the dock where their canoe was moored, to peals of laughter from their group.

(Jemma wished, not for the first time, that her reluctance to participate in anything remotely physical and/or dangerous wasn’t a running joke amongst her churchmates. It made her far too easy a target.)

“Daisy, I _meant _ that,” Jemma protested, trying to dig in her heels. “Mack! Tell her to stop!”

“Don’t hurt her, Daisy,” was all he said, chuckling to himself. Not understanding the full depth of her discomfort, he was rather glad to see her pushed outside of her comfort zone so as long as Daisy was careful enough not to let her get hurt; it would do her a lot of good to be forced out of her bubble in a safe environment this week. (Jemma’s look of utter betrayal would most likely register far more keenly after the fact.) Remembering that he was supposed to be signing his group in, he made for the sign-in tent; Jemma would be fine in Daisy’s hands.

Daisy nodded in acknowledgement, dragging Jemma to the edge of the dock with the air of someone who knew precisely what she was doing. When her feet couldn’t hold onto the edge anymore, she tried to use what little leverage she had to send Daisy over the edge instead of herself, but it didn’t work. The two girls tumbled into the canoe in a tangle of limbs, jolting Piper, who was still sitting in the back. She cried out as the small boat tilted precariously to the side, threatening to dump all three of them into the water. As Jemma scrambled to sit up, the boat began to rock even more, and Daisy shoved a strong arm against the side to steady herself. That proved the final straw.

The boat tipped, sending the girls, flailing and with (from two of them) uproarious scream-laughter, into the water.

Jemma didn’t make a sound save for desperate splashing, too terrified to think of anything but trying to stay afloat. Their decibel level attracted the attention of most of the other teenagers in the lake; a boy they’d never met swam over to help Daisy lift the capsized canoe back onto its proper side. She and Piper, both sheltering in the air pocket created by the overturned boat, were still laughing as they thanked the boy and pulled themselves back into the canoe, but it slowly dawned on their helper that something was amiss.

“Where’s the other girl who was with you?” the boy asked. He could’ve sworn he’d seen a third girl in their canoe, but she was missing.

“Ohhh, crap. Jemma,” Piper muttered. “She…”

“Isn’t a good swimmer,” Daisy realized with a look of horror, glancing around frantically. She saw no sign of Jemma except a patch of fresh bubbles at the surface. “_Mack!_”

The boy clearly had the same idea. “Miss Elena! Some girl fell out of a canoe and she can’t swim!” he hollered, evidently summoning his own leader.

Almost immediately, Mack came running. “What is it?” he shouted. “Is everyone all right?”

“We capsized,” Daisy panted, “and Jemma barely knows how to swim.”

  
“_What_?” a woman who they presumed to be the boy’s youth pastor panted, running up behind Mack – and nearly into him. She managed to stop herself short of the edge, but she had to reach out to steady herself, and her hand fell on Mack’s arm. Startled, he flinched, and his footing on the dock became even more precarious. As Jemma kicked herself to the surface, flailing and sputtering, a combination of relief and terror drove him to make a run for her –

Not realizing that he’d run out of dock.

The woman – Elena, the boy had said – had no time to adjust, and as she lost her grip on the person she’d been using to hold herself up, she tumbled into the water behind him. Clutching his arm like a life preserver out of pure instinct, they came up inches apart, sputtering. Sparing a glance at his group and deciding that Daisy, Piper, and the boy could help Jemma to safety just fine, Mack turned to the woman.

“I’m so sorry,” he sputtered, coughing. “I had no idea I’d, uh…that that would happen.”

Elena shot him an appraising look that had a bit more to do with the way his soaked First Baptist Youth Group t-shirt clung to his _extremely _built biceps than she’d ever have admitted. “You need to control your youth group,” she said sharply. “That girl could’ve _drowned, _and where were you?”

Mack cringed. “I know. Believe me, I’m not making that mistake again. Some of the girls were trying to get her to canoe with them, and I thought she’d be fine, but…apparently she can’t swim. I didn’t know that.”

“Mm. Be glad my kid was there to warn us,” Elena said, unimpressed.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Thank you. I promise, this won’t happen again. Also, do you have a name?”

Elena looked at him quizzically. “Do I _what?” _

“Sorry, sorry, of course you do.” She almost smirked through her indignation (and cheeks burning, about 20% with indignation and 80% because _beautiful bicep_s). “I mean. What is your name? You know, in case…I need some tips on keeping my youth from almost drowning each other.”

“I’d be much more comfortable having this conversation on dry land,” Elena replied, flustered in earnest now.

“Of course.” Mack climbed back onto the dock and offered a hand, which she accepted despite a decided absence of need for it – he pulled her up as easily as if she were a sack of feathers. “So. Your name?”

“Elena Rodriguez. St. Andrew’s,” she introduced herself. “The boy back there was Leo, by the way. Sweet boy, but…reluctant.”

Mack chuckled. “Sounds like my Jemma. Alphonso Mackenzie, but…Mack is fine. First Baptist.” Unsure what else to do, he extended a hand for her to shake. “Thanks for your help. And…sorry again.”

“Of course. Nice meeting you, even under…these circumstances. I hope your kid is okay.”

Mack offered up a small wave and an apprehensive smile, both of which she returned as she walked off. As soon as she left, he bolted for the beach, where Daisy, Piper, and Leo had wrapped a shaking Jemma in towels.

He was going to have to do some _serious _yelling, that was certain. Elena’s obvious disapproval had only made that clearer. Daisy wouldn’t be thrilled to know she was getting both a lecture and a call home to her parents, but she couldn’t go around pulling pranks that nearly resulted in drowning and not be dealt with. (Her father, First Baptist’s beloved Pastor Coulson, would not be pleased - her mother even less so - and he almost wanted to spare her, but it would do no one any good.) 

Knowing his kids, though, the hope that even such a punishment would stop them from getting up to things was probably a pipe dream. _Lord, give me strength, _he thought with a very audible sigh. _This is going to be a long week. _

But a newfound awareness that at least he had the chance of encountering Elena again to look forward to wouldn’t leave his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter sound a little improbable, so fun story: I actually did have my youth group try to throw me in a river once. So yes. Based on true events, people. (They meant no harm, and I can definitely swim, but they had no idea how much the idea of being in that water terrified me so they came off looking like jerks, kinda like Daisy - and Mack for not stopping her - here.)


	2. Tuesday: The Things We're Building

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camp Day 2: Jemma and Fitz bond, Mack and Elena might be a little more invested in each other than they should be, and many deep talks are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Elephant-in-the-room time. 
> 
> I wrote this AU the way I did because Mack and Elena are canonically Christian, but most AOS characters aren't, and I didn't just want to brush that under the rug. In the show, Fitz and Jemma are both sort of coded as atheists, and their doubts add a layer of depth to the story's themes, so I kept them as such in this AU. I don't believe any of the things I wrote them saying; I am, very obviously, a Christian, and there were a lot of lines I wrote that made me wince because they went so strongly against everything I believe. But not only does writing them that way keep them true to character, but it makes their faith journeys throughout the story more realistic and poignant. (I've been to enough retreats to know that a lot of the people on them are usually forced to go and aren't always even Christians. It's just reality, especially among teenagers.) 
> 
> Don't take anything I said as an endorsement. I know my convictions, and they go very sharply against AU!Fitz and Jemma's, but forcing those beliefs on two characters obviously implied not to be religious would be both OOC and a little bit unrealistic. And if you don't like the way I wrote them, know that further along, they're going to wrestle with those beliefs a lot, so they definitely will not be static. 
> 
> (Can you tell this is going to be a much heavier chapter? Yeah...get ready, kids!)

Workshops were, without doubt, the _absolute worst_part of retreats. Jemma hated being forced to attend sessions from speakers trying to teach her to live out a faith she didn’t share, hated that none of the topics ever really seemed relevant to her even though they were meant to be. But this one seemed intriguing, if not for the intended reason. It had some grandiose title from the Psalms, probably, and the brochure of session options they’d been given described it as a “presentation of scientific arguments for God’s existence.”

She didn’t think she was going to be convinced, but her ears always perked up at the word “science”. (It was better than attending one of the eight million sessions on dating that made up the bulk of her alternatives, anyway.) So, fresh out of breakfast and nine-thirty worship, Jemma found herself seated in a cabin packed to the gills with sweaty kids.

Yet another reason she hated the workshops: small cabins, too many bodies. She’d been crammed into a seat beside a group of girls in garish yellow Grace Church San Antonio t-shirts, who were all nattering excitedly, and a quiet, curly-haired boy staring at the floor in front of him. Jemma narrowed her eyes, appraising him carefully; he looked familiar. The realization of where she’d seen him soon dawned on her.

“Leo?” she asked. He looked up abruptly and took her in for a moment, before his eyes lit up with recognition.

  
“Jemma!” he said, clearly beyond relieved to see a familiar face. “How are you? You recovered yet?”

“Oh, yeah, nothing serious,” she replied, smiling in spite of herself. “I was a little upset with Daisy for a while, but then she came in crying because Mack called her parents and they yelled at her – she’s the pastor’s kid, and they’re here as speakers – and I couldn’t stay mad. Poor girl.” Jemma grimaced.

“Well, she probably learned her lesson,” Fitz said. “What made you decide to come to this session?”

Jemma bit her lip – she was never sure what to say. Some of these kids might not react well to her telling them she didn’t share their beliefs, so she always started cautiously. “I, uh…I like science. And I think it might…be helpful.”

“Me, too,” Fitz agreed, and Jemma let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “I like hearing their arguments.”

“So…you having a good time?” Jemma asked just to break up a pause. She wanted this exchange to continue more than she’d ever have expected.

“Not too much,” Fitz admitted. “I’m not really friends with most of my youth group, and…uh, it’s hard to get into the whole, uh, ‘worship experience.’ If you get what I mean. Oh, and there’s another Leo here, apparently, so we’re going by last names now. So…I’m Fitz.”

“Fitz. Got it. And believe me, I know what you mean,” Jemma sighed. “I don’t really like that part either, and I don’t have many close friends here, but on the whole, I like my youth group. I can introduce you to them any time.”

  
“I’d like that,” Fitz replied with a soft smile.

  
Jemma’s face brightened. “Want to have lunch with us after this?”

“That’d be great!”

“Cool. We usually eat on the dock,” Jemma told him. “Just follow me on the way out.”

Fitz nodded, and as the lecture began, Jemma felt oddly light. She even found herself mentally ridiculing the speaker’s arguments less as the knowledge that she’d made a friend – and one who shared her apprehension about the whole experience – sank in and surrounded her like a blanket. She stole covert glances at Fitz throughout the lecture and she could’ve sworn she saw him glancing back every so often, heat rising in her cheeks whenever she thought she felt his eyes on her – and when he was clearly all too eager to follow her to the cafeteria after it ended.

When they reached the cafeteria, where a few members of Jemma’s youth group had already gathered, they were met with pleasant surprise. Daisy and Piper, who recognized Fitz from the day before, waved, and the rest of her group watched them expectantly, waiting to be introduced.

“Uh, guys, this is Leo Fitz, but just call him Fitz,” Jemma told them. “Fitz, this is Daisy, Piper, Davis, Robbie, and Lincoln. All of you, this…is Fitz. As previously stated. Please be nice to him.”

Daisy grinned. “This one’s cool, guys. He was, like, 80% of the reason Jemma didn’t drown yesterday. Wanna eat with us?”

Fitz, somewhat petrified, nodded.

  
“So, Fitz, it takes a lot to get on Jemma’s good side,” Piper teased as they stood in the food line. “What’d you do?”

“Saved her life?” Daisy offered, but was largely ignored.

“We went to that science session together. I think we have…common interests,” Jemma explained. “He doesn’t have many friends here, so I said he could come with us. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

Daisy and Piper exchanged a look. “Cool. Well, Fitz, you’re always welcome here, if you wanna hang out with the _cool people.  
_

One of the boys – Fitz recognized him as Robbie – rolled his eyes. “’The cool people’? Hilarious, Dais.”

_“They’re exes,” _Jemma whispered. “_Not on the best of terms.” _

_“Why is there so much subtext in your group?” _Fitz whispered back.

_“Lots of history. I’ll explain later.” _

After they’d gotten their chicken biscuits and potato salad from the cafeteria line and checked in with Mack and his assistants, Bobbi and Hunter (two college students who’d attended the retreat in high school and volunteered to come back, now engaged, to help out), the group made its way out to the dock. Jemma took a seat as close to the center of the dock as she could find – no one begrudged her that after yesterday – and Fitz followed. As the rest of the group dispersed to the ends of the dock – Piper, Daisy, Lincoln, and Davis at the very end, Robbie on his own off to the side – they found themselves with a bit of privacy.

“So…what’s up with the weird group dynamic?” Fitz asked.

“Oh, it’s like a soap opera,” Jemma said. “So, you know Daisy, right?”

“’Course.”

“Well, anyway, she’s the pastor’s kid. Sweetest girl I know, but the pressure gets to her sometimes, so she’s a little…rebellious. Nothing truly bad, but she definitely, uh, likes to socialize. Flirts with everyone, sneaks off to parties, most likely to get caught making out with someone after hours, the whole nine yards. So, she dated Robbie for a while, but they broke up…acrimoniously…a while back, and now they just roast each other a lot. Meanwhile, her mom helps out with a rehab group for kids who’ve, uh, come into a bad way, and Lincoln – that’s him” – she pointed him out, seated beside Daisy – “was one of those kids. She basically turned his life around, and they got really close afterwards, so he started coming to youth group, and he had dinner with their family a few times. Ended up with this massive crush on Daisy – we’re all rooting for him, he’s a sweetheart – that she has no idea exists. So he’s always trying to get closer to her. Then, Piper and Davis grew up across the street from each other, so they’re basically twins. And I…well, I’m just here.”

  
“Well, I’m glad you’re ‘just here,’” Fitz told her. “All that drama – I could never keep up. You keep it simple.”

Jemma smiled. “Thanks. I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“Me too,” he replied, and he knew then and there where he’d be spending the rest of the week.

* * *

“Tripp? Grant? Have _any _of you seen Fitz?” Elena asked for the fourth time, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do we have the _slightest _idea where he ran off to?”

“None,” Grant said unhelpfully, shoving an entire chicken biscuit in his mouth at once.

“He told me he was going to the science session, but that’s the last I heard from him,” Tripp told her. “I could text him, but we all know how he is about checking his phone.”

“Deke?” Elena hoped his cousin would have better information than the last two people she’d asked.

“No clue,” Deke said, shrugging. “Want me to ask around?”

“_No,” _Elena immediately replied. Trusting Deke with anything of importance was a dangerous game. “I’ll ask some of the other youth leaders. Stay with Pastor Gonzales while I’m gone.”

She knew they wouldn’t, but she had to go find Fitz, and she headed for the lake. A few groups were gathered around – some at the picnic tables on the shore, one on the dock – and she started with a group at the nearest table.

“Have you seen Leo Fitz?” she asked the first group. They froze, interrupted, and shook their heads almost in unison. _Negative. _She moved on to the next group – same question, same answer. Someone on the dock started to move as she was about to reach it.

“Miss Elena?” Fitz called, and she could have collapsed with relief.

“You can’t just run off like that,” she chided him. “Where have you been? We had no idea where you were!”

“Sorry,” he shouted. “This other youth group adopted me. I’m eating with them.”

“Hey,” Daisy piped up. “Sorry to have you worried. Fitz and Jemma hit it off, and he kinda saved our butts yesterday, so he’s hanging out with us now. Didn’t know that no one knew where he was.”

“Are you the girls whose canoe flipped yesterday?” Elena asked. _Of all the groups to choose…_

“That was us,” Jemma said. “That won’t happen again. Nor will the not-telling-anyone-where-you-are – _right, Fitz?” _

“Wait, what?” Mack jogged over to the group. “Is anything…”

He trailed off as soon as his eyes fell on Elena. Her eyes crinkled up in amusement when she noticed his obvious speechlessness.

“Wouldn’t have been as worried if I’d known he was with you,” she said by way of a greeting. “Did you know-“

“Yeah, they touched base with me before they came here. Sorry, probably should’ve let you know I had your kid – I assumed you knew.”

“Nope. But I’m glad he was here.” She moved a few steps away for privacy, and Mack followed. “He has some trouble making friends,” she explained. “Seems like he’s getting along well with your group.”

“Oh, yeah. He and Jemma – birds of a feather, what can I say?”

Elena smiled. “Definitely. What session were you thinking of heading to after lunch?”

“Maybe the one from those missionaries who lived in Indonesia for five years? Looked interesting,” Mack said, shrugging. “I don’t really know. I just let my kids go off on their own, but I thought that looked like a good one.”

“What a coincidence,” Elena replied, and he could’ve sworn there was a note of teasing in her voice. “I was planning on going to the same one.”

“Really?” Mack’s sheepish nervousness struck Elena as especially amusing coming from a man at least a foot taller than her (and built like a linebacker, for that matter). “That’s funny. Want to head over together?”

“Sure.”

* * *

Kids poured out of the chapel in droves as evening worship ended, eager to make the most of their first full evening at camp. The sunlight was faded, but it wouldn’t set for another hour; even then they had four hours before their 11 P.M. curfew, and a wealth of choices as to what to do with their free time. Many made their way to the lake, eager for the relief of the cool water (the air conditioning in the chapel was less than stellar – it was old and the building crammed with more bodies than the fire code likely allowed). Others went back to their cabins for a little relaxation, and still others headed for the fire pits, which promised s’mores and stories (and the occasional sing-along if a group had a leader who played the guitar, an idea which sounded juvenile to most campers but invariably grew on them). But Fitz and Jemma, as always, had minds of their own. On an unspoken agreement, they made for the woods, found a clearing, and sat against two trees. They had a need that neither needed to hear verbalized to acknowledge – a need for answers, a longing for good conversation and kinship – and solitude was sorely needed for such an exchange.

“So…how’d you end up here?” Fitz asked.

“Parents forced me to come,” Jemma sighed, tucking her legs to her chest. “I protested, but they said I had to. And I couldn’t exactly tell them that I don’t even think I believe in God – they’d lose their minds. So…here I am.”

“I figured something like that,” Fitz replied. “I was kinda forced to be here too. I mean, I think I believe in God at least a little, but...I’m not so sure that the people here really know what he’s like as well as they say they do, you know?”

“I just don’t see how these people can be right when science makes it so clear that nothing is here on purpose,” Jemma sighed. She couldn’t believe she was admitting this, but…she trusted Fitz. Maybe he could help her reconcile her beliefs with the restlessness she felt whenever she was here.

“See, that’s what gets me,” Fitz said. “I’m no fan of organized religion, but I can’t help but wonder how you could possibly be right. It’s just…there are always going to be things that only make sense in the context of a higher power. There will always some things that science can’t explain. And there’s got to be an answer, you know?”

“Agree to disagree. Science can explain anything,” Jemma countered. “That’s the one thing I’ve never doubted.”

“Then what do you say to the article I read once about this woman with a brain tumor who went in on the day of her first scan only for the doctors to find that it was gone? Zero treatment, zero radiation, just…_gone. _How could science explain _that?” _

“I don’t know, but that doesn’t mean there’s no explanation,” Jemma said.

“Then how do you explain the fact that if earth’s gravity was even _slightly _off, it wouldn’t support life, but it’s so exact that somehow we’re here? How do you explain all of the million little things that had to be perfect for us to live on this planet, that all worked out exactly the way they needed to? Only answer that’s ever made sense to me is that there’s a God behind it all. But…I still don’t know if that means that what I’ve been told about that God all my life is right, you know?”

“I guess,” Jemma sighed, stirred but not entirely convinced. “I mean, I _do _like my church. Mack’s been one of the few adults I could trust my whole life, and Daisy is basically my best friend. I can understand why their beliefs are necessary to them, but…I can’t share them.”

“For me, I guess it’s just that…I’m not sure if we can be as certain about this stuff as they say we can,” Fitz responded. “I really want to believe some of it, I do. But I…don’t quite trust it.”

“I get that,” Jemma said. “I’d love to believe that there’s a better life after this one, and that nothing is unforgivable, but…all of that defies logic. It’s not realistic, you know?”

“I don’t know. That’s the issue, right? None of us know until we see it. I guess I’ve always assumed we’ll find out when we die, right?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Jemma said. “Morbid, though. Speaking of, I’m not sure if it’s quite safe to be out in the woods after sunset, so…do you want to go to the lake instead?”

Fitz grimaced. “No privacy out there.”

“Yeah, but witnesses mean safety. Come on,” Jemma said, tugging his arm to pull him up. He blushed a little at the unexpected contact but took her hand as she pulled him to the lake, and to both of their surprise, he didn’t let go.

They sat down at the end of the dock – no fear this time, just the warm contentment of having found a kindred spirit – and, hands clasped, watched the sun set over the water.

* * *

“Aww,” Elena remarked, nudging Mack’s arms as they stood by the boathouse, watching their campers on the dock. “They really did hit it off.”

“I’d say so,” Mack agreed with a fond smile. “I’m glad. Jemma’s not always super comfortable around here – I get the feeling she, uh, doesn’t really have much of a faith life – so…it’s nice, seeing her find someone she gets along with.”

“Same with Fitz,” Elena replied. “Also, sidenote. Is it just me, or are those leftover marshmallows at the empty firepit over there calling your name?”

  
Mack chuckled. “Always. Shall we?”

They made their way over to a firepit that no group had colonized yet, and took seats side-by-side on a log. The sounds of music (some group’s leader apparently knew nothing but Jason Mraz songs on the guitar, and he swore they’d sang “Lucky” and “I Won’t Give Up” at least four times each already) and laughter rose in the air around them; even a space this wide-open felt like home with the air of companionship it carried. Without thinking about it, Elena leaned against Mack’s shoulder. “I’ll never get tired of this,” she sighed. “The humidity, the sounds of kids screaming, the bugs, the constant haze from the firepit smoke – nothing like it.”

  
“That’s one way to put it,” Mack said, painfully aware of her head against his right side and trying to pretend that he wasn’t. “Makes it easy to see why I went into youth ministry.”  
  


“Yeah, definitely. Good times. But…why’d you really pick this job?”

“Uh, well, I guess I’ve always loved kids,” Mack said, drying his clammy palms on his jeans. “I grew up in a church, and I loved my youth group, but I sort of fell away after high school. I went off to college, got a job with the CIA, had a girlfriend – thought I had my life figured out. Then I had a daughter.”

“You have a kid?” Elena asked, her heart sinking. _Where’d that come from? _She wondered.

“No, _had.” _Mack took a deep breath to steady himself. “She…didn’t make it. Neither did my relationship. The plan I’d made for my life wasn’t shaking out, and I didn’t know what else to do, so…I fell back on God. I’d kind of let that part of my life go, but it seemed like the only thing I had left. Started going to church again, realized what I’d been missing…and before I knew it, I’d signed up to volunteer with the youth group. And, well, I loved it, so here I am. Best decision I’ve made in years – I love these kids. I know it’s cliché, but seeing them grow in their faith really is priceless.”

“I’m…sorry to hear about your daughter,” Elena replied softly. “But clearly you found the right path for you, no?”

Mack nodded. “If I learned anything from that whole experience, it was that God doesn’t usually follow _our_plans. Which is a good thing for me, because I’d never have had this opportunity if He had.”

“Mm-hm.” Elena reached for a marshmallow and a skewer. “I grew up in Colombia. Super religious on paper, in practice…not so much. Lots of Catholics, not a lot who really had a heart for God, you know?”

“Sounds like my youth group,” Mack sighed, his heart leaping when the comment got a genuine laugh from Elena.

“Times a million. I remember being in a Confirmation with dozens of kids where maybe only ten or twelve actually cared about their faith. It always made me sad, seeing so many people who knew about something that could bring them so much peace and joy but just thought of it as a social obligation.”

“The universal religious problem,” Mack sighed.

“Sadly,” Elena replied, sliding a perfect golden marshmallow off the skewer and popping it in her mouth. “Thith ith amathing.”

“Aren’t we supposed to have outgrown s’mores?” Mack teased, swiping her skewer and another marshmallow.

Elena shot him a pained stare he could make out even in the darkness. “’Only those who become like little children may enter the Kingdom of Heaven,’” she quoted.

“I don’t think Jesus was talking about marshmallows when he said that-“

Elena licked the liquid marshmallow from her lips with a wry smile. “Same difference. Anyway, that’s why I wanted to be in youth ministry. I want to help kids really love God, and want a relationship with Him, not just…show up and go through the motions.”

“That’s a noble goal,” Mack replied, purposely lowering his skewer to let his marshmallow burn. Elena looked horrified.

“_Excuse _me?”

“What? I was giving you a compli-“

“_That is not how you roast a marshmallow!” _

“Oh.” Mack pulled his marshmallow from the flames and carefully blew out any lingering embers on its charred surface. “Maybe not, but it’s good enough for me.”

Elena swatted his arm playfully as he ate the charred monstrosity he’d made. “So...tell me about your campers.”

They leaned back against the log, Elena’s head resting against Mack’s chest, and he did.

* * *

Mack checked his watch as he looped around the cabins, making one last check for kids out past curfew, and grimaced.

1:34 – had he reallybeen with Elena for _four hours? _It had felt like minutes. Now that the adrenaline of being so near her had worn off, he was exhausted, and he couldn’t wait to collapse into his bunk, but the sound of soft voices in a clearing behind the cabins alerted him to the need for another round of patrols.

“That one’s Cassiopeia,” a male voice said. “See that little cluster of stars?”

“I know where Cassiopeia is,” a female voice replied, playful and teasing. “Wait. Is someone coming?”

Mack would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Jemma?” he called groggily as he neared the voices. Sure enough, Jemma and Fitz were stretched out on a blanket in the clearing, Fitz’s hand extended to point out constellations.

“We were just stargazing!” Jemma called defensively. “We were about to go-“

“I’d say so,” Mack replied. “It’s two hours past curfew.”

“Sorry,” Fitz said, grimacing. “I’ll go.”

As Jemma neared him, towing a blanket and sulking, Mack laid a hand on her shoulder. He couldn’t be mad at her for this – she was making friends. Maybe more.

  
Besides, he was guilty of the same offense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: married!Philinda as guest speakers at one VERY awkward workshop on relationships, a little StaticQuake, and the Youths are officially onto Mackelena. (Spoiler alert: they ship it.)


	3. Wednesday: Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward seminars, angst, first kisses (but not THAT first kiss...did you really expect me to make this easy on you), and a lot of unspoken things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun with this! I even made some of Coulson's dad-memes to get into the right writing mood, ehehe... 
> 
> (No one will EVER see those.) 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this! Special thanks to @heeeymackelena for the yelling and support :)

Deep down, Daisy May-Coulson was solidly convinced that she had the best parents in the entirety of the cosmos. That did _not_, though, make sitting through their annual dating seminar from Hell (the unfortunately-titled “Leave Room For Jesus?: Making Sense of High School Dating,” because her father couldn’t resist a good joke) any less painful.

  
They’d given the talk at every retreat Daisy had ever been on, and it changed slightly from year to year – her father insisted on presenting with a PowerPoint that always included at least six of the latest memes, all awkwardly applied to “biblical dating principles” – but the one trend she’d noticed was that it never seemed to get any _better. _

** **

Watching her parents talk about “godly boundaries” was awful enough, but as the years went on, what made it all the worse were the tender looks they’d exchange as if the rest of the room wasn’t watching. Knowing that their advice was built on the same principles as a twenty-five-year marriage that most movies couldn’t replicate, and that she…well, she might not be cut out for the happily-ever-after her parents had been given. She always had to swallow a lump in her throat as she walked into the cramped auditorium – the session was always packed – and filed into a row of folding chairs.

Lincoln claimed the seat next to her and, noticing her nauseous expression, rested his hand on her shoulder. “You good?” he asked, with concern that completely escaped Daisy’s notice.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. It’s just…not my favorite talk,” Daisy said, feigning nonchalance with limited success.

“Oh.” Lincoln pulled his hand away, consciously attempting not to let it brush anything else on the way back to his armrest. “Yeah, I can see why.”

The lights dimmed, and as Daisy’s parents took the stage, she sucked in a ragged breath. “Hell_oooo, _retreaters!” her father called. Some cheered, others cringed – Daisy and her mother both rolled their eyes.

“You could take it down a few hundred notches, babe,” her mother said, her smirk betraying the fact that she was very much aware of the fact that her microphone was on and not concerned at all. Daisy grimaced; hearing one’s mother, who showed about one emotion a month in front of anyone else, call one’s father ‘babe’ in front of three hundred people was…rough.

“Yeah, not gonna happen. It’s my _thing.” _

_Was this scripted? _Daisy thought, horrified. _Why on _earth _did they not ask me if this was okay? _

“Yeah, I can definitely see why this isn’t your favorite,” Lincoln said, visibly trying not to laugh. “It’s…”

“Special,” Daisy sighed. “Very…special.”

“So. Show of hands – how many of you came here hoping to find love?” Daisy’s father – Pastor Phil to everyone else in the room – asked. The room began to buzz – some people snickered, others cringed, others protested as their friends tried to forcibly raise their hands. (Daisy noted with a smirk that Piper and Davis, sitting in a Jemma sandwich on her other side, had cajoled their younger friend into raising her hand, blushing madly the whole time.)

“Quite a few, even if you don’t count the ones whose friends put their hands up for them,” Daisy’s mother – “just call me Melinda” to the rest of the room – noted. “And that right there says a lot. My first advice is to pay attention to what the retreat is actually _about-_”

“Mellie, come _on,” _Pastor Phil sighed exaggeratedly. “Some of us can’t really help being a little…taken in. This is, after all, a new environment full of interesting people and _minimal supervision-“ _

“I should hope that last thing was a joke.”

“Eh, let’s face it…some of our leaders here aren’t always going to be able to keep an eye on their kids all the time. Take my church, First Baptist – c’mon, FBC Youth, stand on up!”

Several students rose enthusiastically but Daisy would rather have fallen through the floor than stood at that moment. She was _sure _he was going to bring up the Robbie incident from last year, and if he did, she was going to have a problem.

Many problems.

But he didn’t. “See those two lovely kids on the right? That’s Bobbi and Lance. Give ‘em a wave, guys?”

Daisy could’ve collapsed with relief, but Bobbi and Lance both looked mortified. (Later she’d learned that her father had cleared this with them; they’d given consent, but that made it no less awkward.) “So, Bobbi and Lance have been coming to youth group – as students and as helpers – since they started high school. You know the story. Boy meets girl, boy and girl make out on church retreat, boy and girl end up getting engaged seven years later and come on retreat as counselors, where they proceed to let some kids go for an unsanctioned night swim because they _still haven’t_ stopped making out on church retreats…”

Lincoln snickered. “I remember that.”

“Yeah, me too,” Daisy tried to shout, but he couldn’t hear her over the hollering of the crowd.

“Phil, I’m not sure if that’s the most appropriate story to be telling them,” Melinda sighed.

“Sure it is! It’s a reality that some of us have trouble keeping our minds on God all week. Knowing that they aren’t alone in that makes it easier to come to grips with, and also learn how to combat it when things get out of hand. Right, kids?”

Scattered applause, not much else.

“So, anyway. Today, we’re going to be trying to help you guys make sense of the confusing role of romance in our lives,” Melinda continued.

“And we’re definitely qualified,” Phil added. “_Extremely q_ualified. We’ve been married for twenty-five years. And we have a kid your age – stand on up, Daisy, I wouldn’t be a good dad if I didn’t take advantage of this golden opportunity to humiliate you! – so…we think we know what we’re talking about.”

_That’s it, _Daisy thought._I’m officially launching myself into space. _

* * *

Most of the First Baptist-plus-Fitz-and-Sometimes-Elena retreat group seemed to share a single conclusion about the workshop when they found themselves discussing it after lunch, no matter how much they’d laughed – one that largely boiled down to “poor Daisy.”

“If my dad were a speaker here, I think I’d run screaming,” Jemma told Fitz with a shudder. “I can’t understand how Daisy does it.”

  
“Yeah, I can’t, either,” Daisy responded with an eye-roll. “It was worse than usual this year.”

“I liked his use of memes, though,” Fitz commented. “If we want to look on the bright side, that one of the guy pointing to a butterfly labelled ‘settling for the first person I find’ and saying, ‘is this a good idea?’, was pretty great.”

“_Please _don’t remind me,” Daisy groaned. “_Please.” _

“Your parents _do _have a sweet story, though,” Jemma said. “So many years together and they’re still so in love.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Daisy nodded weakly and the Inseparables (as some of the group had begun to call Fitz and Jemma) veered off without explanation, exchanging glances with Lincoln as he approached Daisy.

“Hey, are you okay? Again, you don’t look too good.” His face flushed. “I mean, emotionally! You look like you’re having a rough day, I mean. I didn’t mean that you…you’re not…”

“No, I got it.” Daisy stared at her Converse.

“Then…are you doing okay?” Lincoln asked, pressing on even though his cheeks were the color of salmon and everyone around them was whispering. It was as if the two existed in a bubble and everything said around them simply pinged off.

Daisy didn’t talk to Lincoln much – he’d been her mother’s mentee, and they’d met, and perhaps...well, perhaps some part of her heart that still longed for stability thought he was the kind of guy who she might date if she ever wanted more than a ten-second flirtation (but who would doubtless never think of her that way), but she wouldn’t say they were friends. But today, something made her feel as if it was safe to let her guard drop. So she wallowed a lump in her throat and admitted, “no, not really.”

Lincoln glanced at her, and then away, with enough concern to melt the stoniest heart – but Daisy was too absorbed in watching the ground ahead of her to notice. “What’s wrong? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Actually, yeah. But maybe…alone?”

Lincoln was all too quick to agree. “Yeah, of course! Privacy is…always good. Dock?”

“Sure, why not?” Daisy sighed. “We just have to check in with Mack first.”

“He’s not here.” Bobbi approached from behind. “Ran off with that other youth pastor again.”

“Making moves, is he, now?” Lance, who was never far behind her, teased. “You guys are good to go. Just don’t die.”

“Really, Lance?”

“Or…do anything to get yourselves kicked out.”

“I would never,” Daisy called drily, and they split off for the lake. For a moment, once they’d taken seats at the end of the dock, they just sat in silence. Daisy had been here a million times – same water under her feet, same wooden planks supporting her, same wind in her hair and sun in her eyes, same boy at her side – but…this time, sitting on the dock had an air of finality. She was only inches from plunging into the water, and it felt symbolic; five days from now she’d leave this place that had been so formative for so long, and she’d never return. This was her last retreat, her last chance to make it count.

She bit back another lump in her throat. “It’s crazy to think that this is our last year,” she said aimlessly.

“That what’s eating you?” Lincoln asked, turning to face her. “Leaving?”

“Oh…no. Not that. It’s just…that talk is always hard for me, and not just because my dad sees at as an opportunity to embarrass me.”

“I’ve always thought it was kind of nice,” Lincoln said, leaning back against his palms. “Your parents have been through so much together and somehow, it all still worked out.”

Daisy exhaled, long and slow and steadying. “That’s the problem.”

“That your parents have a good marriage?”

“No, I’m grateful for that, really. I love them…more than I ever tell them. But it’s a lot of pressure. It’s bad enough being the pastor’s kid, everyone expecting you to be the Perfect Christian Daughter all the time, but when your parents are like mine…well, it’s easy to lose hope that you’ll ever find something like what they have, you know?”

Lincoln inched closer to her. “I know how hard it must be, but why do you not think you’ll find someone who’s perfect for you?”

“Because almost no one does,” Daisy confessed, glancing down into the water, her voice small. “It seems like the whole world’s given up on love, and I’m just one kid who was lucky enough to see one of the cases that worked out. Me, who’s never been able to measure up to anything that my parents are – why would I expect to have what they do?”

“You can never see yourself like other people do, Daisy,” Lincoln said, resisting the urge to lean over and brush a stray lock of hair out of her eyes with a kiss on her forehead. “You only see a girl who isn’t enough. Everyone else sees-“

“The wild girl who parties to forget that she’s never going to fit the mold and flirts with every guy in a two-mile radius?”

“That’s why you do that?” Lincoln asked, his tone almost bitter. “Because you don’t think you’ll find anything better than someone to flirt with?”

“What do you think all those boyfriends were about?” Daisy replied, her voice cracking. “Miles, Robbie, that creepy Ward guy from freshman year – I never thought it was love with any of them. I just…I guess I thought something was better than nothing.”

“Daisy, you deserve so much _better _than hopping around from fling to-“

“I don’t have ‘flings.’ I have ill-fated, short-lived relationships.”

“So…flings.”

“I’ve never done anything worse than making out with Robbie in the back of his car! Not a fling,” Daisy protested.

Lincoln turned beet-red again. “I did _not _need to know that, but okay, ‘not flings.’ You deserve better than ‘not flings.’”

“Do I, though?”

“Daisy, there are guys who’d do anything to give you that thing you keep saying you can’t have, and you just don’t see them,” Lincoln sighed, more frustrated than (in Daisy’s rather clueless eyes) he had any right to be.

“I doubt that. No one I’ve ever dated was interested in more than bragging rights or back-of-a-car makeout sessions. If not worse.” Daisy grimaced. “I may not be a very good pastor’s kid, but I’m a good enough one to run far away from _those _ones.”

“Remember that meme your dad used-“

“Oh, _no,” _Daisy groaned. “Not this again…”

Lincoln couldn’t help but laugh, and soon Daisy had no choice but to join. And they sat, staring out across the water, laughing through their tears and frustration and heartache, and when they could breathe again, Lincoln turned back to Daisy, caught her gaze, and reached for her hand.

“There’s a reason why I get so frustrated when you say you have no choice,” he started, his words coming out mangled. “Because you do. You_always _have. And I can’t say if it’s true love, but if you wanted to, you could see.”

  
“Lincoln, what are you saying?” Daisy asked, wary and tense but not pulling her hand away.

“I’m surprised it’s taken this long to get out, but I like you, Daisy.” Lincoln cleared his throat. “A lot. And I have for a while, and you’re way out of my league so I totally get it if you want to run screaming and never look back but I needed to say that-“

Daisy cut him off with a swift brush of her lips against his – tentative, shy, and uncertain, but a kiss nonetheless – and his entire face brightened.

  
“I’m not an idiot with no chance? Half of the betting pool said I was an idiot with-“

Daisy sputtered, her flushed cheeks reddening with indignation now instead of shyness. “A _betting pool? _How _long _have I been not-noticing this for?”

“Uh.” Now it was Lincoln’s turn to stare at the water. “Well, I finished your mom’s program in ninth grade, and we had dinner for the first time that summer, so…three years?”

“Three _years? Three years and a betting pool, _and you never said anything?”

Lincoln shrugged. “Never felt like the right moment.”

  
“But why? I thought _I _was the one who liked _you-“ _

This time it was his turn to cut her off with a kiss. It lingered for a few seconds longer than hers had, but it felt…different. Restrained. Patient where every other guy she’d kissed had seemed hungry. (Maybe it was a consequence of waiting three years, or maybe it was just…him.)

When they pulled apart, Daisy took hold of his hand, twining her fingers through his. “So…who won the bet?”

* * *

** **

** _Elsewhere, at the same time_ **

** **

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it, that was the most awkward workshop I’ve ever been to.”

Mack grinned. “That’s our Phil. He gets…a little too into it, sometimes. He’s got good stuff to say, though.”

“And uses memes and anecdotes about his youth group to say it, apparently,” Elena replied wryly. “It looked like Daisy wanted to murder him.”

“She always does. I think she’s taking this being her last year pretty hard, too, so I don’t think she appreciated it much.”

“I wouldn’t either, if that were my dad.” Elena grimaced. “That was pretty rough.”

“Yeah…even I felt bad for Bobbi and Lance, and they’d _agreed _to it. But they probably did bring it on themselves-“

“Wait, that story was true?” Elena cackled. “I thought he was making it up as an example like everything else.”

“Oh, no. It was very true,” Mack told her, eyes sparkling with mirth. “I was there. Quite the, uh…sight.”

“What do you want to bet someone else is gonna end up in the same situation by the end of the week?” Elena asked.

“Oh, we have a betting pool going on Daisy and Lincoln, and Fitz and Jemma seem to be getting on pretty well, and…”

Mack wasn’t about to say _me and you, _but it was on the tip of his tongue, and the way Elena looked at him expectantly, it was on her mind too.

“I suppose,” she said, staring blankly ahead.

Mack supposed it didn’t feel like the right time.


	4. Thursday: Out of Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday: Daisy and Jemma hatch a plan, and Mack and Elena have a moment at an inopportune time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place at a worship service (partially), so I couldn't help but make a playlist of (imo) the best Jesus-retreat songs to accompany it: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/45kdDKQsAkJXn5HtOPinCo?si=xX9GFpTgQu-jXC6xJHACoA
> 
> Any of the slow songs on here could potentially be considered The Song used in the second portion. Pick a favorite on (or off of) this list, if that's your thing. 
> 
> Also, I decided to go slightly slow burn with both FitzSimmons AND MackElena here...sooorry! :p have fun with that.

The sound of soft rain against the windowpanes softened the pitch-black night outside. A soft glow emanated from the bottom bunk against the right wall of the Gerber Family Cabin (named for a long-ago donor, probably, known to First Baptist’s youth group simply as “the girls’ cabin”); whispers and stifled laughter, muffled by the pillows and bedclothes, rang out in the silence.

“I _swear, _Daisy, it’s nothing!” Jemma insisted, straining her whisper to its maximum volume. The color in her cheeks was visible even in the dim light. “And besides, I’m not the one who _kissed Lincoln-“ _

“Okay, that is _not _the same thing!” Daisy protested, playfully swatting Jemma’s arm.

“I beg to differ!”

“Beg all you want, but it isn’t,” Daisy said. “I swear. We’ve known each other for, like, years. You met Fitz _three days ago _and you’re already, like…_soulmates. _It’s insane.”

“We’re not anything of the sort,” Jemma whisper-shouted. “We have a lot in common, and we both needed a friend, but…that doesn’t mean there’s anything there. Romantically, I mean. Obviously there’s _something, _but, like, a _platonic _something…really, we’re just friends. Really! He’s like a brother to me!”

“Liar.” Daisy did not look the least bit convinced, crossing her arms with a satisfied smirk. “’Like a brother’? You spend every second with him, Jemma.”

“Not true,” she protested. “Am I with him now?”

“We all know you would be if you were allowed to. Really, Jemma, you take _denial _to a whole new level.”

“Well, I don’t think he sees me that way, and I-“

“Didn’t you say you had an intense heart-to-heart and held hands _the day you met_?” Daisy challenged.

“Friends can hold hands,” Jemma said weakly, her cheeks burning.

“I mean, yes, but they usually _don’t,_” Daisy said. “Well, say whatever you want, but _I _think you like him, and he _definitely _likes you. And you’re, like, _perfect _for each other, so…I say go for it.”

“Even if I were inclined to ‘go for it’, what does that even _mean?” _Jemma asked, and Daisy couldn’t help but laugh. Her total denial, the overly-formal wordings she always used, the reluctance – all of it was just pure _Jemma. _It was in moments like that when she felt an almost maternal affection for the younger girl.

“I think…well, I know I’m not exactly the best person to tell you this, but rushing is a bad idea. Don’t be like me,” she advised. “Like, stay friends. Keep talking to him, find out what he’s really like…but don’t fall out of touch, you know? Get his number, keep talking. Does he live anywhere near us?”

“Buffalo. Close enough.”

“Ooh, that’s only a few towns over! You _have _to hang out at least a few times. Seriously, Jem, I’ve never met two random strangers who were so obviously perfect for each other-“

“But enough about me,” Jemma stammered, clearly ready for this conversation to be over. “How’s _your _new boyfriend? I’ve never been happier to win a bet for absolutely no reward in my _life.” _She grinned, recounting the euphoric expression on Daisy’s face when she’d stumbled into the cabin in a daze last night, and the breathless conversation in which she’d recounted the details of Lincoln’s confession – and their first kiss – after Jemma had pounced on her. 

  
Now it was Daisy’s turn to roll her eyes. “He isn’t my boyfriend.”

“You kissed him! What else could that possibly-“

  
“He isn’t. Might be soon, I don’t know. Anyway. If we’re on the topic of couples, what’s up with Mack and that other youth pastor?” Daisy asked, diverting the conversation to a neutral subject she knew Jemma couldn’t resist.

“Oh, Elena?” Jemma’s eyes lit up, Lincoln immediately forgotten.

“Yeah, is it just me, or are they…I mean, am I the only one who sees it?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s totally into her,” Jemma agreed. “I didn’t even know he was single, but…it’s cute. Old people finding love is so _heartwarming.” _

“They’re, like, thirty-five, Jem. That’s not that old.”

“Yeah, but…you know what I mean. It’s cute. I hope it works out,” Jemma said.

“I do too, but I don’t he’s going to do anything about it,” Daisy replied. “It’s probably kinda creepy to talk like that about adults, but I’ve known Mack since I was a little kid – family friend, you probably knew that – and…I mean, I think it would do him a lot of good, you know?”

“Why, is he one of those perpetually lonely people?”

“Not lonely. Just…he’s always made it sound like he sorta gave up when his last girlfriend left him. If he doesn’t want to date, that’s fine, but I don’t think that’s what the issue is – have you _seen _him with Elena? He _really _likes her, it’s obvious.”

Jemma nodded. “Definitely. They get along great, their personalities mesh well – you’re right, I’d be really disappointed if he didn’t at least sort of pursue her.”

Daisy’s eyes lit up with mischief. “We’re agreed on the ‘Mack-and-Elena-should-get-together’ front, then?”

“Yeeees…?” Jemma said warily, grabbing her water bottle. “You’ve got your plotting face on. What are you thinking?”

“Well, all I’m saying is that he might need a little extra help,” Daisy said, mock-innocent.

Jemma sputtered, nearly choking on a sip of water. “You want me to help you set up our _youth pastor?” _

“Duh.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules.”

“What rules? ‘Sketchy grey areas’ aren’t rules,” Daisy replied, carrying on the innocent charade. “As long as no one ever finds out and we don’t do anything unethical, I don’t see what’s wrong with _hinting.” _

“Okay, maybe, but on _one _condition,” Jemma reluctantly concurred.

“Which is?”

“You leave me alone about Fitz and let me see what happens _naturally. _Sans meddling.”

Daisy sighed. “_Fine, _but I’m going to hold you to that.”

“And I’m going to put my foot down, because it’s 2:24 and we have to be up at seven. Go to bed.”

“Of course,” Daisy sighed, ducking to avoid colliding with the top bunk as she stepped out to claim her own bunk on top of Jemma’s. (Jemma hadn’t wanted the top bunk for fear of falling out at night – and Daisy, never mind the fact that she was a very mobile sleeper, wasn’t going to make her take it.)

“Night, Dais,” Jemma called up after her.

“Night, Jem.”

Daisy leaned back against the pillows with a smile. This was going to be something else.

* * *

“You guys look exhausted, Bobbi remarked as she shook the girls in her cabin awake. (That was the task of the Cabin Mom, as they liked to call her – it always carried a risk of having one’s eyes clawed out.) “Out late?”

“We were all in at curfew and you know it,” Piper grumbled.

“Yeah, well, I heard some of you gossiping past midnight-“

Daisy gasped for effect. “I would _never, _Bobbi – gossip is a _sin!_” 

“So is lying, Daisy,” Bobbi shot back, unable to conceal her amusement. “I get it, though. Church-retreat boyfriends are the best kind.”

“Says the girl who routinely calls her church-retreat boyfriend an ‘ignorant kumquat,’” Jemma cut in. “But yeah. You guys might need to help me stay awake in chapel…”

“’Course,” Daisy yawned. “Hopefully breakfast will help wake us up.”

At the word “breakfast,” several girls perked up, and the room moved at a slightly less snailish pace than it had a few moments earlier.

After reuniting with the other half of their group stumbling through a breakfast of French toast and eggs, too bleary-eyed to be fully awake, they made their way to the chapel for morning worship. (It was no accident that most of the parts of the service that required the retreatants to stand took place at the beginning of the service – it was significantly harder to fall asleep standing up.) Today seemed particularly drowsy; even Mack looked ill-rested. Daisy and Jemma exchanged a pointed look, remembering the first night of the retreat, when he’d been out with Elena until one o’clock in the morning.

“C’mon, we don’t have all day,” he yawned, herding his group into a pew. The St. Andrew’s youth group uncoincidentally filed into the row behind them, Fitz leaving to take the seat nearest Jemma; Elena subtly slid in next to Mack (‘subtly’ in her mind, that was – everyone noticed). As usual, the band struck up as soon as most of the groups had entered, and, though some groups sang – one in particular had an interpretative dance for virtually every song the band played – most stood staring at the screen, dazed and sluggish.

“Did _no one _sleep last night?” Elena asked, scanning the room. “Everyone seems so tired.”

  
“It’s nine and they’re teenagers, Elena,” Mack said with a small smile. “They’re always tired at this hour.”

“Not like _this_,” Elena insisted. “I think I’m going to have to have a chat with my girls about sleep. Most of them seem to think midnight lights-out is a suggestion, not a rule.”

“They’ll wake up. Some of my kids brag about getting by on two hours of sleep a night during the school year,” Mack replied, stepping closer to her without even realizing it. She noticed, though, and glanced up at him, holding his gaze intently. He found himself unable to look away; only the realization that he needed to be singing snapped him out of it, and he tore his gaze away from her to look at the lyrics on the screen.

“There’s really no escaping this song,” he sighed as he saw what it was.

“What, _Oceans? _I like it.”

“I mean, it’s fine, but overplayed songs get old fast.”

After a quick reminder to focus, he turned back to the lyrics and, realizing he no longer needed them to sing along, turned to watch his students. Most were singing - Daisy, by force of habit; Lincoln, because Daisy was doing so, while rather shyly grasping her hand; even Jemma, who always sang along so as not to stand out. Others were even _more _invested: Mack was rather amused to find that Piper and Davis – apparently – had heard this song enough times to have hand motions for it, which they performed with relish while belting out the lyrics off-key. He couldn’t help but look on fondly. These moments – kids in a chapel, praising God (well…some of them), enjoying each other’s company – were the kind that made his job so rewarding.

“Oh, wow. Interpretive dance,” Elena commented, watching as the entire group executed Piper and Davis’ hand motions in perfect tandem. “Impressive.” xHe didn’t say anything – it didn’t seem to warrant a reply – and smiled down at her. Again, she caught his gaze, and he felt a curious heat in his face at her apparent reluctance to release it. She leaned closer, maybe intentionally or maybe not.

As “Oceans” ended and the praise band transitioned into a slower song, the group linked arms, beginning to sway to the music. Mack couldn’t help but notice every detail – the way Daisy threw back her head in abandon, letting the light catch her hair like a halo; Fitz tentatively placing his arm around Jemma’s waist as if it was a risk even though everyone else was doing the same thing; Bobbi and Lance’s nostalgic expressions as they joined the kids’ sway-line. He was nearly too wrapped up in it all to notice when Elena threaded her arm around his waist (she barely came up to his shoulder) and pulled him into the group. He flinched at the unexpected contact but soon relaxed, albeit hyperaware of the placement of her hand on his back, and his hand on her shoulder…

Elena took a hitched breath. She couldn’t help but notice that Mack had the kind of baritone that she could _feel _as she leaned against him, that his hand rested on her shoulder so gently she barely felt it there. She leaned into him slightly whenever they swayed to his side, singing along but barely able to focus. (In the back of her mind she chided herself to set a better example for her kids, but…he was _distracting.) _

Songs ended, and she had to relinquish his arm (sadly), but…she couldn’t help the little catch in her throat whenever she stole a glance at Mack, knowing he was probably too absorbed in the service to notice.

Mack couldn’t help but think of the way Elena fit so perfectly under his arm as his eyes darted to her, hoping she wouldn’t see him staring but figuring she was paying more attention than he was.

_Why is it so hard to focus today? _Elena asked herself.

_Why can’t I stop looking at her when I shouldn’t? _Mack wondered.

_No, Elena, you are _not_falling for him! There has to be another explanation. _Elena shook herself as if it would let those irritating thoughts fly from her mind. It didn’t work.

_You know how this ended last time. Don’t even think about it, _Mack cautioned himself.  


_But what would happen if we _did _meet again? _Elena couldn’t help but ask herself.

_But what if this time is different? _

The pastor’s final “amen” snapped both out of their thoughts and, unintentionally, their eyes met. They both looked like dear in headlights –

But something like understanding passed between them.

_It isn’t just me. _

“I…have to go get the rest of my kids,” Elena sputtered, practically running for the back despite the fact that her kids were right in front of her.

Mack let out a long sigh.

If this time _was _different, it wouldn’t be easy.


	5. Friday: Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mack has had enough of distractions, Elena has had enough of waiting, and there is only one way to kill both birds with one stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short and nonsensical (at least in the second part) but eh, still. I felt like I needed to a) bring the focus back to Mack and Elena and b) actually address the retreat more, so I did that, but...not all that well. Hope y'all still enjoy. #dockkissganggang

_Thwack-thwack-thwack. _

Melinda let out a long sigh as she made her way to the door. It was _four A.M., _for crying out loud, and if she hadn’t been preparing for her morning run anyway, it would’ve woken her up. But…

  
It could be one of the kids. Someone could have had an emergency. Something could have been set on fire (she’d had her eye on that Grant kid from Saint Andrew’s since the week began, and she wouldn’t put it past him). So she swung open the door, and found-

“Mack?” Melinda’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong? Is it Daisy?”

No answer. He looked dazed, so she tried again.

“One of the other kids?”

“Sorry, what?” Mack shook himself out of whatever trance he’d been in. “Sleep deprivation.”

“Has there _been _an e-_mer_-gen_-cy?” _she restated, exaggeratedly drawing out each syllable.

“No, the kids are all fine. I’m just here because I can’t sleep and-“

“It’s that other youth pastor, isn’t it,” Melinda replied, a sly smile forming on her face as she picked up a mug of coffee. (She knew now that she wouldn’t be getting her workout in this morning.)

“I need to do something about this,” Mack sighed, collapsing into one of the rickety chairs around the dining table (the speakers’ cabins were decidedly homier than the students’) and nearly taking it down with him. “I can’t focus, I can’t sleep, and it’s stressing me out. I feel like my kids haven’t gotten anything out of this retreat because I haven’t been paying enough attention to make sure they do-“

“The focus thing is a problem,” Melinda began, taking the seat across from him. The creases in Mack’s forehead began to relax – he’d known Melinda for long enough to recognize her situational-analysis voice, and to know that it usually led to solutions. “We definitely have to work on that. But the kids…sorry to say it, but they’re as distracted as you are, and it has nothing to do with you.”

“Explain, please?”

“Not sure what they put in the water this year, but everyone’s having one of those summer camp romances at the same time,” Melinda explained, stirring her coffee. “You’d have to be clueless not to notice. Jemma and that Fitz boy, Daisy and Lincoln…you and Elena.”

“So you’re saying-“

“All you can do is work on yourself.”

“Which is what I’m trying to do,” Mack said, “but it isn’t as if I actually know how. I’m just guessing, and I’m usually wrong.”

“Well, if the goal is to get Elena off your mind so you can focus on the retreat, you have two choices.” Melinda took another sip of coffee. “You can either decide that you’re not going to pursue her and forget about it, or you can tell her how you feel so it won’t be hanging over your head for the next two days.”

“I figured as much, but…which I should go with?”

“Personally, I’d go for the second.” Melinda smirked ever-so-slightly. “You haven’t really been all that open to a relationship since Nicole and it could do you good. But if telling her is going to distract you more than worrying about it already has…well, I don’t need to tell you that you have a job to do, and besides, God has to come first.”

“’s why I’m here,” Mack sighed. “I…really do want to keep talking to her, but I know she’s not the reason I’m here. Bad timing, you know?”

“Not necessarily,” Melinda countered mildly. “You have a week to get to know each other now. That’s helpful. The trick is to compartmentalize.”

“Compartmentalize? Didn’t your husband give a sermon about ‘not putting Jesus in a box’?” Mack asked, slightly amused. That was May, right there.

She rolled her eyes in a rare display of flippancy. “I don’t mean that. I mean, you can separate instances where it’s okay to focus on her from ones where you need to be focusing on God, or your group, or not losing to me in the faculty canoe race. Although that last one’s pretty futile.”

“Definitely not.” Mack cracked a genuine smile for the first time since he’d arrived.

“Or in that Newlywed Game thing they always do,” Melinda continued smugly. (That was another faculty tradition, wherein youth leaders and speakers were paired up and asked relevant and/or nonscandalous questions like “what is your partner’s favorite Bible verse?” or “how many mosquito bites did your partner get this week?” in a PG version of a well-known classic. Phil and Melinda _never _lost.)

“Yeah…being married is sort of an unfair advantage when _most of us have never met.” _

“That’s another perk if you tell your girl how you feel about her.” Melinda smirked. “You might actually stand a chance.”

“Well, now I _have _to,” Mack teased.

“In all seriousness, Mack, I think you should consider it, but only you know how you’re going to handle it if you do,” Melinda replied.

“You know why I haven’t done anything about this yet?”

“Yeah, because you think you’re doomed to be alone after Nicole or something else excessively dramatic,” Melinda replied drily. “I know you were heartbroken. I get it, truly. But that one failure, however catastrophic it might have been-“

  
“Way to lay it on thick.”

“Just saying. Anyway, that failure doesn’t mean it’s time to give up. If God’s nudging you towards this new relationship – and with this vibrant, funny, attractive young woman who you are _obviously_already completely smitten with, no less – you’d kind of be an idiot to ignore that.”

“No pressure, though, right?” Mack asked, half-frustrated and half-ecstatic.

“No pressure at all,” Melinda replied.

Mack nodded tightly and left the table, grateful for the biting chill of the night air as he walked back to his cabin. She’d given him a lot to think about.

But he knew, deep down, what he was going to choose.   
  


And he had to get it done as soon as possible. 

* * *

Elena had never been a heavy sleeper, so she woke at the slightest sound most nights. This one was no different and, at six, she found herself awakened by a ringtone, notifying her of a text message that she wished she could leave unread until the room’s alarm went off at seven. Irritated, she reached for her phone, only to immediately fumble to open it when she saw what it said.

_Can you meet me at the dock in twenty? _It read.

  
From Mack.

Jolted awake, Elena rushed for the (blessedly unoccupied) bathroom and threw on the nearest available set of clean clothes, hoping she didn’t look as disastrous as she felt. Within minutes she was out the door, trying to resist the urge to break into a run because he never would have asked her to meet him this early if it wasn’t important, but even at her fastest walk she was at the dock within five minutes. Mack stood near the end, wringing his hands, and glanced up as she called his name.

“Here already? You’re fast.” His eye contact wavered, as if she were the sun and he couldn’t look at her for too long.

“You planning on telling me what it was you woke me up an hour early for?” she asked when she reached the dock, crossing her arms.

  
“Uh…yeah. Of course.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I have a problem.”

“Which is…”

“I can’t think straight,” he admitted, staring at the ground. “I can’t focus on the retreat, and it’s driving me crazy, so I have to do something about it.”

“That’s…probably a good idea, but what does it have to do with me?”

“If I’m being honest…everything.”

Elena’s arms dropped to her sides and for a moment she didn’t speak, trying to process his meaning. “_I _have everything to do with your inability to focus.”

“I’d say so. My head hasn’t been on straight since you took up residence in my mind and you just _won’t get out.”_

“And you want me to?” she asked, somewhat aware of his meaning but unsure why he’d put it that way.

“No, no, it isn’t that! I just-“

“Mack, honestly, if you want to tell me that you’re into me, you should just _tell me that you’re into me _instead of talking in riddles because frankly, _it’s driving me crazy_.”

Mack’s expression shifted from nervous to sheepish. “I’m sure you can excuse me for not being able to put it that bluntly.”

“I make you nervous? How adorable,” Elena teased.

“Um…you haven’t actually addressed what I said yet.”

“I’m not that good with words either,” Elena admitted. “I prefer to _show _people what I feel.”

“Am I crazy or are you trying to get me to kiss you?”

“We’re at a _church camp _and you think I’m trying to get you to kiss me?”

“Please just tell me if you’d date me or not so I’ll know and I can stop being distracted by-“

Elena rolled her eyes, rose on her toes to bridge the gap between them, and pressed her lips to his ever so briefly before she pulled away and what felt like a thunderclap rang out in her mind.

_You’ve known this man for a week. He could live thousands of miles away from me. We might never see each other again. I’m setting myself up for heartbreak- _

Elena inhaled, long and slow, pushing out her mind’s protests, because there had to be a reason for this and she wasn't about to throw it away because it _might _not work. “That good enough for you?”

_Let’s just see how this goes. _

“More than.”

“Good. I expect you to _focus _now,” she teased. “Since…that’s why you finally decided to tell me what’s been obvious since we met.”

“Really? I’m _that _obvious?”

“Slow _and _obvious,” Elena said. “Worst combination.”

“Riiight.”

“No, I’m completely serious.”

  
“I could throw you in the lake right now…”

“Do it. You won’t,” Elena said with a teasing smirk.

And, because _of course, _that was the precise moment that her phone decided to blare out its alarm tone.

Elena sighed. "Time to go _not be distracted._" 

Mack's job may have gotten a bit easier, but she imagined hers had not. 


	6. Saturday: Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes aren't nearly as difficult as the moments that lead into them - the ones that should be happy and cherished but can't, for they are nothing but harbingers of an ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short, but I did not have a lot to say here. I do, however, have this outlined, and subsequent chapters will be MUCH longer and better, I promise! I hope you're still enjoying this. :)

“I’ve never been so reluctant to leave a church function,” Jemma sighed, fanning herself with rather dramatic flourish.

“Ditto,” Fitz replied, stifling a laugh at her purposely-overwrought diction. “I’m going to miss…” he trailed off, catching himself before he said “you.”

“This place?” Jemma helpfully suggested.

“Yeah, that. Actually having friends. The lake, the dock, hanging out around the fire pits.”

“Fitz, you only live a few towns over. There’s no reason you can’t still see us,” Jemma added, with a cursory “if you’re worried about not having friends” for good measure and hoping it allayed his suspicions when she rested her palm gingerly against his forearm. (Given the way it tensed under even the lightest touch, she doubted it went unnoticed, and blushed slightly.)

“Yeah? Maybe I will.” Fitz smiled nervously. “Mind if I crash First Baptist every so often?”

“We’d all love that. Please do – and bring Elena along if you do,” she told him with a conspiratorial smirk. 

“Wh-“

“She and our youth pastor are probably in love,” Jemma explained. “Daisy’s recruited most of our youth group to set them up.”

“Oh. Wouldn’t have noticed.” Fitz shrugged. “I’m pretty oblivious to that kind of thing.”

“I can tell,” Jemma said drily. “Anyway. My group is going on a hike tonight. Want to rope your group into coming along?”

“And by ‘my group’ you mean ‘myself and Elena’?”

“I’ve met your other people, you know. Tripp’s lovely.”

“Okay, but have you met Grant? The boy’s a sociopath.”

  
“Okay, yeah, maybe just you and Elena.”

“You really weren’t joking about this set-up thing,” Fitz sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. But I’ll be there no matter what.”

That was something Jemma would puzzle over in excessive detail later on when she realized just how much it could have meant. Later, when she was finally able to admit to herself how much she _wanted _it to mean more than it probably had, she clung to those words as proof of something she’d never really believe unless he told her outright.

But in the moment all she said was, “can’t wait,” and got up to go, her head spinning in a way she simply could not understand.

* * *

“Last day, girls,” Daisy announced, flinging open the cabin door with authority. “It’s now or never!”

“Dramatic much?” Piper sighed, flipping over on her bunk to dangle her legs from the edge.

“Now or never…what?” Bobbi asked, sighing. “Why do I feel like I miss everything that goes on here?”

“We’re setting up Mack and that other youth pastor,” Daisy explained. “If we don’t get them talking now, we probably won’t have any more chances-“

“Wait, wait, wait.” Bobbi crossed her arms. “You’re meddling in adults’ love lives? Really, girls?”

“You’ve definitely thought about it,” Daisy challenged. “Don’t deny it. You have.”

“I mean, yeah, they’d be cute, but that doesn’t give you the right to-“

“Do what I have to do to secure the happiness of someone who means a lot to everyone in this room? I think it does.”

“If anyone asks, I don’t know about this,” Bobbi sighed in a ‘too-old-for-this’ voice far beyond her twenty-five years.

“So…anyone have progress to report?” Daisy continued.

“I’m trying to get Fitz to bring her on the hike,” Jemma reported. “Hikes are very romantic.”

“No, hikes are full of mosquitoes and the most exciting thing that ever happens on them is someone sweating clean through three layers of clothing, but…_oookay.” _

“Oh, please. It’s as if you weren’t planning to run off and make out with Lincoln at the first opportunity,” Piper shot back.

“_Thank _you, Piper,” Jemma said. “I have a good feeling about this. Should be a great send-off, no?”

“Well, it might be the only one we’ve got, so…sure.”

* * *

To Fitz’s surprise, Elena hadn’t needed any goading to be convinced to go on First Baptist’s stargazing hike. So, after dinner and the last evening worship session of the week, she arrived at the meeting place in as many layers of clothing as she could possibly wear without overheating (tropical upbringing or no, she _hated _mosquitoes) with a single charge.

“Fitz just about begged me to come to this,” she said as she sauntered over to Mack, who had to restrain his laughter at her four jackets in the summertime heat. “Better be worth it.”

“I’ll…try,” he replied, still as taken aback as ever by her brazenness. “Okay, kids, you know the drill. Stay together, stay on the trail, stay hydrated.”

Silence.

“Right. Okay, since you’re all _so enthusiastic _to be off…here we go.”

The group set off single-file, except for Fitz and Jemma, who couldn’t be bothered not to walk side-by-side. Lincoln trailed behind Daisy, trying to hold onto her hand as she walked. (On several occasions he swore she nearly pulled his arm off in her excited haste.) Piper and Davis occasionally attempted to shove each other into trees, Mack and Elena led the line and tried not to let anything appear to be different about their interactions in front of the kids.

  
The sun began to sink below the horizon, but the stifling humidity remained; it had the effect of a blanket, covering the group in a stifling fabric woven of air and water as they marched through the gloaming. The more obscured their visibility became, the more boldly Elena extended the momentary touches that she’d been willing to risk when the youth group might see them. (She’d seen the way their eyes followed her and Mack whenever they spotted them together; it was probably best not to give them ideas until she knew where it would head.)

“Worth it yet?” Mack asked, taking her offered hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Getting better all the time.”

The chatter behind them slowly wound down as they neared the clearing where they’d stop to stargaze. Pairs and trios claimed patches on the grass, some particularly forward-thinking ones laying out towels and blankets they’d brought as a precaution against damp grass.

“You forget how much you miss seeing the stars until you do,” Fitz said.

Jemma grinned and dug her elbow into his side. “Aren’t you glad I made you come?”

“Yeah.” Fitz smiled to himself. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Fitz was seconds from reaching to grab her hand, but something stopped him. He lay next to her but a million miles apart, and he wondered if she felt the same gulf.

Something told him that she didn’t.

Something told her that there was something she couldn’t even admit to herself running beneath the surface.

Something told both of them _not yet. _

* * *

"Pretty, isn't it?"

"Is this where you make a cheesy joke about how I'm prettier?" Elena replied.

"Uh, actually, no, I wasn't planning on it."

"Pity." Elena chuckled. "How are we going to make this work?"

Mack didn't respond for a moment. That seemed to be the question of the day; there was nothing _truly _separating them once they left the camp, but...still. Somehow what they had felt like once-in-a-lifetime love and a fleeting summer romance, never meant to last, all at once. Like something he couldn't define or name - like the kind of thing that had gotten him into such a fix the last time he'd taken a chance on love. 

No matter how right this felt - lying next to her in the grass, holding her hand - it had the air of something he couldn't keep. Fear gnawed at the pit of his stomach no matter how he tried to chase it away, because something in him said, _use the time you have. _


	7. Sunday/Flash-Forward: Parting and Plotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which we realize that this is going to be one of those rom-coms that's entirely predicated on a misunderstanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN FOREVER. I'M SO SORRY, GUYS. :( School is kicking my butt and I haven't felt inspired in a while, so it took me some time to get this out. 
> 
> Also, this is entirely hinging on them falling out of touch for the stupidest reason for them to fall out of touch imaginable, but I had to come up with SOMETHING and honestly it's just not that plausible any other way. Please enjoy.

It hadn’t felt like six days – not even slightly. Too much had happened – too much had changed – for so few days to have elapsed. So, leaving the final morning worship service with a group of groggy, uncomfortable teenagers, Mack couldn’t fully process what it meant that it was well and truly _over. _

“I’m gonna miss this,” he said to no one in particular.

“And by ‘this’ you mean ‘me’?” Elena replied, picking her way through the group to join him.

“_Right.” _

“We should meet up sometime,” she continued. “You know, get coffee or something.”

“We should. Do that. Sometime,” Mack agreed, clearing his throat and wondering if he could possibly _be _any more awkward. “Which reminds me, I never got your number.”

  
“How is that possible? You _kissed me _before you even had my-“

“The way I remember it, _you _kissed _me.” _

“Well, whatever.” Elena unlocked her phone with a smirk. “Here. You first.”

He obliged and handed back the phone before a voice over the P.A. system sounded. “Please report to your cabins for final check-out,” the camp director announced.

“Oh, uh…I’ll have to get yours later, I guess,” Mack told her. 

“Works for me. I’ll give it to you on the bus.”

* * *

“Hey, have you seen Fitz?”

Jemma’s eyes narrowed. “No, he’s with his group. Why?”

It took every ounce of Mack’s resolve not to curse under his breath. “Elena mentioned that they’d be on the same bus as we are, so…”

“Ohh. No, it looks like they’re on another one.” Jemma shrugged. “Sorry. Why’d you ask?”

“I can’t discuss that with-“

“What’s this about Elena?” Daisy piped up from a nearby spot where she was guarding the group’s luggage. She shifted the beanie she was wearing in spite of the 90-degree heat (Lincoln’s, no doubt) and crossed her arms appraisingly.

Mack sighed. Daisy had ways of finding things out that he couldn’t hope to understand; he might as well just admit it.

“I gave her my number, but she didn’t give me hers. She said she’d give it to me on the bus.”

Daisy and Jemma exchanged a conspiratorial look.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean to,” Daisy said, but she couldn’t fight the mischief from her eyes. This was a roadblock, for sure…but she was _quite _confident that they’d find a way around it.

* * *

**A Month Later: September**

Mack’s heart caught in his throat when a notification for _three new messages – unknown number _lit up his phone. Maybe she hadn’t avoided giving her his number intentionally, as he’d feared. Maybe she’d _finally _texted back. Maybe –

He opened the messages and sighed. The sender was a scammer selling Ray-Bans for $8.99.

  
At first, he hadn’t assumed anything – she was probably busy, and it would have been easy to forget to check in. But after a month of that, he’d started to worry. Maybe there’d been a reason she hadn’t been on that bus. Maybe it had been no less ephemeral than the summer camp romances he witnessed his students start and end year after year. He’d typed in and deleted the phone number for St. Andrew’s so many times that it was burned into his brain; he’d nearly called her countless times, but never had.

  
If she was ready to move on, maybe it was something he should consider.

* * *

Elena typed out a quick _hey, how have you been? M_essage and let her thumb linger over the “send” button for a moment –

And closed out.

She knew she was overthinking things. She was completely aware that he hadn’t avoided seeking her out to get her number on purpose. But if he wanted to talk to her, _why _had he not called? There were other ways to find her and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let go already. Maybe he hadn’t done so intentionally, but if he didn’t want to talk to her, she felt she had to respect that. So she clicked _cancel _and set down her phone with a sigh.

* * *

Fitz hadn’t made it five feet into the First Baptist Church youth room (a concrete space with little to cover the walls but an oversized mural and a few ancient red couches pushed against them) before he was mobbed by a shrieking horde.

“_Fitz!” _Daisy cried, flinging herself at him with disturbing abandon. “Jemma told us she invited you but we didn’t think you’d actually come. It’s so nice to see you!”

  
“Nice to see you too…I can’t breathe,” he wheezed as Daisy (apparently) endeavored to squeeze the life out of him.

“Oh, sor-“

“FITZ!” Piper and Davis crowed from across the room before immediately disintegrating into snickers. He gave them a wary sideways glance, not sure if he _wanted _to know what private joke he’d unwittingly become a part of, before trying to push through a crowd of people who evidently had not been on the retreat towards the one person there who he’d come to see.

(He was a little hurt that she hadn’t come to greet him, but it was hard to care when he made it through the cluster of people and laid eyes on Jemma for the first time in…well, five days.)

Lack of greeting notwithstanding, Jemma’s eyes lit up when she saw him. “You came!” she exclaimed, _finally_standing up to give him a hug that felt eight thousand times more awkward than it should have.

“Couldn’t miss out on the…youth pastor Parent Trap,” he said, attempting to sound wry but coming out wheezy and uncertain.

“Oh, is _that _why you came?” Jemma teased, an exaggerated expression of mock-offense on her face.

“Well, I _am _curious as to how they managed to get split up when they live fifteen miles apart, but no. Not really.” He smiled sheepishly. “I miss you.”

“We saw each other last week, Fitz,” Jemma reminded him, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. “We went ice skating, remember?”

“How _could _I forget? I have bruises in places I can’t even reach.”

Jemma shrugged. “It’s no one else’s fault that you cannot stay up to save your life.”

“_Hey!” _

“But really.” Jemma’s smile softened. “I’m glad to see you too.”

“So…tell me about this new development,” Fitz said, taking a seat beside her. “What exactly-“

“None of us are really sure. It seemed so perfect,” Jemma sighed. “I guess Mack is putting up walls again. At least, that’s what Daisy keeps saying, and she seems to know what she’s talking about, so I’m going to guess that’s what’s going on here.”

“Ah.” Fitz nodded – she’d briefed him rather thoroughly. The whole thing might’ve started off as Daisy’s idea, but Jemma had embraced it wholeheartedly. She had a spreadsheet and at least four Word documents dedicated to tracking new developments; she’d mapped out ever plannable detail – considering that the latest iteration of their plot (which even Fitz had to admit was far-fetched) culminated in _February, _that was saying something. So, naturally, she’d explained every piece of information Daisy had given her to Fitz in painstaking detail. (A four-hour Skype call did the trick rather handily.)

“I wanted to go ahead faster, but Daisy thinks it’s best to give them time,” Jemma continued. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, that sort of thing. Plus, we don’t want to be…glaringly obvious, you know?”

“I get it. I really do,” Fitz replied, with all the gravitas of a 15-year-old who, in the presence of his in-denial crush, felt like he’d swallowed a minivan.

“So, anyway. You know the drill. We’re not doing much of anything quite yet.”

“Mm-hm.”

Fitz could see with far more clarity than Jemma that the plan they’d hatched was borderline-insane, possibly-unethical, and definitely unlikely to succeed. It was preposterous – setting up one’s youth pastor was the kind of thing normal teenagers Definitely Did Not Do, the kind of thing people did in kids’ movies that earned 34% ratings on Rotten Tomatoes – but…it was _because _of that, he thought, that it seemed to be worth a try. It was ridiculous, and it wouldn’t end well if their machinations caught Mack or Elena’s eye before they were able to complete them, but there was something exciting in that. Maybe it was the danger, or maybe it was just seeing the way talking about their half-baked matchmaking plot made Jemma’s entire face light up, or maybe it was the idea of doing something so incredibly stupid –

Mack’s voice cut through his thoughts as the clock changed to five-thirty and the meeting began. “Everyone grab a Bible from the shelf,” he announced, and the group collectively dragged its feet to the bookcase against the back wall. “We’re going to be picking up where we left off last week. Anyone want to remind us what we were talking about when we last met?”

No one said anything as the zombie horde shuffled back to the circle of couches.

“I guess not, then-“

“Reconciliation,” Daisy said, throwing a sly smirk in Jemma and Fitz’s direction. Fitz couldn’t help but smirk back – the timing was almost too perfect.

“Yes, thank you, Daisy. If you can remember, we’re talking about forgiveness right now, and this week we’re moving on to the process of reconciliation…”

“I don’t think he realizes what that sounds like,” Jemma snickered.

“What, the thing with-“

Jemma dug her elbow into his ribs. “Yes, Fitz, _that thing. _Be a little discreet, will you?”

“That was uncalled-for.”

“Sorry, but we can’t have you blowing our cover.”

“Your _cover? _Really, Jemma?”

“Some of us take this quite seriously, you know!”

“Oh, I know. Do I ever know.”


	8. November: and sway to the rhythm of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bby!ships take on homecoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a HOT minute since I updated this, and I'm not going to lie, this isn't my favorite chapter. It's slightly all over the place, and it doesn't really move the plot forward much, but hey, update. I hope you like it :)

“I don’t get school dances.” Jemma shifted to pull the falling blanket around her shoulders back into place. “Why pay $35 to stand around watching a bunch of jocks and their girlfriends make out on the dance floor to Ed Sheeran?”

“Bet it wouldn’t be boring if you went with me.”

Jemma’s cheeks flushed and she was grateful for the barrier of her laptop screen, however thin. “Leopold Fitz, are you _asking me out?” _

Now it was Fitz’s turn to be flustered. “N-no! I just thought it would be nice to have someone to go with! A…friend…to go with, I mean,” he insisted, visibly beet-red even through the camera. _(He could definitely see how red I just got,_Jemma thought with a mild note of panic.) “’course, if you don’t want to…”

“No, I…would be amenable to that.”

Fitz’s nervous smile relaxed into an ear-to-ear grin. “Great! Your homecoming or mine?”

“I’d say both, but...costs too much.”

“Yours it is,” Fitz decided. “Feel like I already know everyone there, what with the whole-“

“Youth pastor Parent Trap,” Jemma finished. “Mine’s the 9th– you free?”

“Do I look like I have a life, uh-“ he caught himself before finishing with ‘outside of you – “uh, any sort of an, um, social life? Do I, Jems? ‘Cause-“

  
“I know, just teasing.” She fell back against her pillows with a dramatic sigh. “Guess I’m going to have to have to pay money to watch a bunch of couples clinging to each other all night.”

“And the circles. Don’t forget the circles.”

Jemma threw a pillow of her face to muffle a dignified shriek of disgust at the memory. Every year, someone decided it was a fantastic idea to circumvent the school’s rules about ‘suggestive dancing’ by getting a group to form a circle around whomsoever wanted to break said rule and block them from the view of anyone watching from the outside. It was horribly effective and, from the one time Jemma had been inadvertently caught in one, horribly traumatizing to witness. “Don’t remind me!” she cried.

“Hey, if they start circling up, we can just go off and be antisocial together, right?”

Jemma pushed the pillow off her face for just long enough to smile and say, “this is why I’m going with you,” before letting it fall back down.

And then she wondered why on earth she’d said yes.

Going to the dance in the first place was bad enough. Add the need to fight off her feelings for Fitz – “we’re just friends” Fitz – into the mix, and, well…

This was going to be the best-worst night of her life.

* * *

_Clunk._

Daisy tried not to laugh as Lincoln, visibly shaky, dropped his fork against his plate for the third time in twenty minutes. “You okay?” she asked, affectionately playful. Her tone seemed to put him at ease at least a little bit, and he nodded.

“Sorry, yeah. It’s just…”

“First date awkwardness?” Daisy finished with a knowing nod.

“Yeah, that.” Lincoln smiled tightly. “Hard to believe it took us this long, huh?”

“Oh, come on, it’s _only_been four months,” Daisy teased. “Barely anything.”

“Says the girl who practically begged me to ask her out for the entirety of those four months?”

  
“Well…guilty as charged,” Daisy replied. “It was worth the wait, though. Right?”

  
“Oh, definitely.” Lincoln nervously stabbed at his pasta. “It’s just…”

“Yeah?”

“I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. You know my dating experience is…minimal, right?”

“Lincoln, you know you don’t have to be ner-“

“Sorry, can’t help myself.” Lincoln smiled a little ruefully. “Not every day you get to go on a first date with the girl you’ve been crushing on for three years.”

“Aww.” Daisy glanced down at her plate, a little unsure how to respond. “Well. Uh. As long as you’re not one of those weird kids who thinks the dance floor is for making out…”

“Yeah, no.” If it was even possible, Lincoln looked more uncomfortable than he had before, and the two lapsed into silence.

In the silence, Daisy couldn’t help but wonder if _she _didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing, either. She wasn’t one to expect a thing to last; something something as innocent, as…steady, as a date to a dance, was unfamiliar territory. She couldn’t help but think of that day on the dock when Lincoln had so earnestly promised he could give her happily-ever-after – it was so _shortsighted, _so impulsive to make such lofty proclamations at only seventeen, but…she wanted them to be true – wanted that _so badly. _

Stealing glances at her boyfriend across the dimly-lit table, Daisy could only hope, but whether he’d been speaking too soon or not, she’d always have tonight.

She squared her shoulders – she was going to make it count.

* * *

“I feel like I have cotton in my ears!” Jemma had to shout to have any chance of being heard over the pounding music. “Can you even hear me?”

“Barely,” Fitz shouted back. “Have you ever even heard these songs?”

  
“Nope.” Most of it was recently-released hip-hop that neither of them was particularly familiar with. “I’m just waiting for the-“ as if on cue, the music wound down, throbbing synthesizers mellowing into acoustic guitar – “slow songs.”

Fitz could barely raise his eyes from the floor, what with the frog in his throat when it hit him: _this is the slow dance. This is my-_

“So, are we gonna stand here, or are we gonna dance?”

_Chance. _

“Uh…sure,” Fitz stammered, positioning himself in front of Jemma but feeling like he was rooted to the spot. He couldn’t compel himself to pick up his arms and place them where they were, apparently, supposed to go in instances like this. He couldn’t register the awkwardness Jemma felt, standing in front of the boy she liked, staring, not moving, while the precious seconds of the song slipped away.

  
She looped her arms around his waist, since he was clearly not going to do anything but stand and gape, and they swayed.

  
Partially because that was how one typically danced to such music, yes; but also because both felt so faint at the slightest implication of attraction on the other’s end that they weren’t completely steady on their feet.

“Am I doing this right?” Lincoln asked, grateful not to have to shout over loud music.

“Definitely,” Daisy said, muffled from the somewhat-awkward angle at which her head rested against his shoulder. “I wish they played more slow songs, you know?”

“Yeah. I do.” Lincoln wondered if she could feel his pounding heartbeat, wondered if she cared if she could, wondered why he was so nervous in the first place.

In the end, he didn’t know. But on a night like this, it was hard to care for too long.

* * *

“Tonight was…great.” Fitz, emboldened, gave Jemma’s arm a squeeze as they walked through the crowd of students streaming out of the school gym into the frigid night air. “Thanks for that.”

“It’s me who should be thanking you,” Jemma replied, immediately wondering why she’d spouted off what sounded like dialogue from a cheesy holiday movie rather than…normal English. “I mean, I had a great night too, and…you know.”

“I know.” Fitz reached over and hugged her for a few seconds that felt like decades. _Be still, my heart. _“I’m glad you had fun. I...it was nice having someone to go with.”

“Yeah, it was,” Jemma concurred. “My parents are here, so…gotta go, but…thanks.” She turned and smiled shyly back at him as she walked away. “Call me tomorrow?”

“Always.”

He doubted she realized the magnitude of that single word.


	9. December: let your heart be light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost Christmas! Mack and Elena have a serious mutual pining problem, and Jemma and Fitz enjoy the season together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the first of, I think, three Christmas/New Year's chapters, then we're going to get into the meat of this story: parent-trapping Mack and Elena at Valentine's Day. I finally have this all plotted out and want to finish it as quickly as I can since it's been so long (I've actually already written the epilogue, because of course I did), so if any of y'all are still reading this, hang in there! I'm nearly done. :)

Four months could warp almost anything beyond recognition.

It seemed like so little time, but Mack knew all too well that four months could be the space between a comfortably-manicured life and the unknown. A hundred and twenty days, give or take, could reshape and upend an entire life. It had before, and it probably would again.

And yet, locking up his office on a December evening, snow blowing outside his windows, Mack wondered why the last four months hadn’t changed a thing. Because as he prepared to leave, he still couldn’t help but glance back at the sticky note with the phone number of St. Andrew’s Church written on it stuck to his desktop. He still had to fight the urge to dial it and _know _if he’d been wrong about all of this, if he’d been wrong to lose hope.

Four months hadn’t changed the way he felt about a woman he hadn’t seen since August in the slightest.

But he still didn’t dial. The part of him that wanted to shrink from risk couldn’t help but think that even if Elena _had _given him her number, he would have been too afraid to use it. A weeklong romance with a colleague at a church retreat? It felt so out-of-character in hindsight that he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been imagining the whole thing. He’d been so careful to guard his heart for the past several years that much as he missed Elena, he couldn’t help but admonish himself for the way he’d pursued her. _You shouldn’t have been so quick to believe it was going to work out, _Mack had told himself over and over. _You know better than that. Haven’t you learned? _

And besides, Elena had _his _number. If she’d wanted to talk to him, she could have, and she hadn’t.

So…that was two compelling reasons to forget. And yet he still couldn’t.

He warned himself not to repeat his mistakes; he cautioned himself that it might’ve been nothing to Elena; he tried to carry on as if she’d already spurned him. But as long as an ember of hope still burned – as long as she never said no, only maintained her silence – he couldn’t stop thinking of the woman he might have loved, if they’d had the chance.

But still, he didn’t call.

* * *

“To surviving finals,” Fitz announced with as much theatricality as he could manage, hoisting his mug of hot chocolate into the air. Jemma grinned and clicked her mug against his, though the _clink _of mugs meeting in a toast wasn’t as satisfying as she’d hoped in her caution not to jostle any of the whipped cream that sat on top. 

“I’ll drink to that,” Jemma joked, taking a long swig of her hot chocolate and _immediately _regretting it. “Thap wath a bab idea,” she muttered through a mouthful of scalding cocoa.

“I’m just shocked that I’m having actual human interaction outside of school,” Fitz commented. “Usually I spend all of Christmas break holed up in my room playing video games.”

“Not this year, you won’t,” Jemma said, taking a noticeably smaller sip of her still-scalding drink. “I’ve got a list of things we need to do this break, and you are _not _getting out of it.”

“Hey, may I remind you that this was _my _idea?” Fitz asked, mock-offended. (It had been – he was sick of sitting around, and he’d wanted to see Jemma, and besides…he could _almost _pretend this was a date).

“And I applaud you. We’ve done a good job of socializing you,” Jemma quipped. “But it’s _one time. _We still have to go ice skating, and see that terrible buddy-cop movie Davis won’t shut up about, and get up at the crack of dawn to get there before that donut place that’s always got a line around the block sells out of apple fritters-“

“You know, that sounded fine, but you lost me at ‘crack of dawn,’” Fitz said. “I’m _not _getting up at five during winter break and getting frostbite in all of my extremities from standing outside for an _apple fritter-“ _

“Fine, then, I’ll go with Daisy.” Jemma smiled primly, eating the whipped cream from the top of her mug with a spoon. Fitz looked like he was going to burst into hives.

“You’ve supposed to let it melt in, not _eat_ it,” he told her, horrified. “Eating it off the top is like…biting into a Jolly Rancher. You just can’t _do _that!_” _

“Can and will,” she teased, and he couldn’t help but blush a little because was she _flirting _with him? Possibly, and it was _adorable, _and he could watch her drink hot chocolate wrong any day of the week.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, finishing their drinks. Then, finding themselves in possession of several free hours and no reason to stay in the coffee shop, they wandered around the snow-blanketed streets, talking about everything and nothing.

“I was reading this journal about aliens a few days ago,” Jemma told Fitz as they passed a tiny bookstore dubiously advertising “rare manuscripts”. “This student in Melbourne did his phD on the philosophical implications of the existence of extraterrestrial life-forms, and they published the paper in the Journal of Science and Ethics. It was absolutely _fascinating-“ _

“You read the Journal of Science and Ethics?” Fitz almost laughed. “Even for you, that’s a little bit out-there.”

“_Excuse _me?” Jemma tried to sound gravely offended, but she couldn’t help but grin. “I happen to find it interesting!”

“Oh, I’m sure I would too,” Fitz reassured her, thankful that the red in their cheeks from the cold concealed the blood rushing to his face, “but…it just hits me sometimes what _nerds _we are, and it’s almost funny.”

“It really is,” Jemma agreed. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, though.” _Wouldn’t have _you _any other way, _she’d wanted to say, but that was the kind of out-of-bounds statement she figured he’d run far and fast from, so she didn’t. Then something caught her eye, and she stopped, grabbing Fitz’s hand and dragging him into a shop.

(He felt like his skin was about to burst into flame at the sudden contact.)

“Hats?” he asked, nonplussed, at his first glance around the store. Displays of elegant hats – fedoras and bowlers, jewel-toned wool cloches and huge, garish, pastel mother-of-the-bride hats – rose up around them like trees in a forest of pretentious-looking millinery. “What are we doing in here?”

“I _love _hats!” Jemma announced, clasping her hands at her chest. “I’ve always thought it’s sad that no one wears them anymore. I mean…” she pulled a tiny, flagrantly impractical red pillbox hat from a peg on one of the ‘hat trees’ and placed it atop her ponytail. “Why would you _ever _let that go out of style?”

“Maybe because you haven’t even moved and it’s falling off?” Fitz said drily, motioning to the hat. It was, indeed, slipping from its perch atop Jemma’s head. She scrambled to catch it, giggling a little too loudly and earning the pair and irked glare from the pinch-faced clerk.

“Thank you for not touching the merchandise,” the clerk told them, pushing her tiny glasses up her nose. And that did it – Fitz turned to Jemma, and the moment their eyes met, they both burst out laughter. Jemma placed her hat back on its peg and turned to leave, but not before poking the crown of a ridiculous orange fedora with her index finger out of spite. That set Fitz off all over again, and they stumbled back into the snow gasping for breath.

“’Thank you for not touching the merchandise,’” Jemma parroted between gulps of air and bouts of laughter. “You know, I really never thought I’d meet anyone more passive-aggressive than my mother, but…”

“Speaking of, I’m not getting picked up anytime soon, and I don’t think anyone wants us wandering through their stores.” _This is it, Fitz. Golden opportunity. _“What do you want to do?”

_This is it, Jemma. Come up with something romantic. _“Uh…the park’s really pretty this time of year,” Jemma suggested, playing with the hem of her sweater. “Want to take a walk?”

“Walking through the park? We’re such a cliché.” Fitz laughed, but he didn’t refuse – _thank you, Jemma, good suggestion – _and they walked a few blocks to the public park. Everything looked prettier under a coat of snow, the park notwithstanding; the view of the lake, rimmed by snow-dusted trees, was stunning this time of year. Fitz fought the urge to take Jemma’s hand as they walked the cleared path through the trees.

“I always think I hate winter until I see something like this,” Jemma sighed. “It’s just _gorgeous.”_

_And so are you, _Fitz considered responding, but he had a feeling he couldn’t make that sound smooth to save his life. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

“I’ve always been jealous of your skill with words,” Jemma teased. “’Nice?’ Really?”

In a moment of insanity, Fitz took Jemma’s hand and raised it to twirl above her hands. Initially caught off-guard, Jemma got the gist of the motion in a few seconds and spun, giggling nervously. _Well then. _She ended facing Fitz and both of their faces were beet-red, not just from the cold.

Then he _looked _at her, and she could _almost _swear he’d moved in a little closer until their faces were nearly touching and-

_Bzzt! _

Jemma’s phone vibrated in her pocket at an absolutely obnoxious volume.

  
(She rather wanted to throw it into the lake right about then.)

“Must be my dad,” Jemma said, backing away. “Sorry. I…have to take this.”

“Of course,” Fitz replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. _Lovely timing, Mr. Simmons. Just lovely. _

But still. Interrupted or not, _he’d almost kissed her. _

And he could argue that she hadn’t known that he was three seconds from kissing her, but deep down he knew Jemma was far too smart for that; she’d have backed away if the idea repulsed her. 

The thought did things to Fitz’s fried brain that he couldn’t even _begin _to make sense of.

* * *

Elena couldn’t bring herself to delete the number that’d been burning a hole in her phone since August.

  
After all, it was almost Christmas, and a “hey, how’ve you been?” text would not have been the least bit out of place. It made _sense _to use Mack’s number – after all, he didn’t have her number, and the ball was in her court. But she still couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Every time her finger hovered over the “send” key, she’d end up backspacing the entire message. The paranoia in her wondered if he’d ever seen the typing bubbles pop up from an unknown number on his phone and wondered who was messaging him, but she had to admit he probably hadn’t.

After all, it’d happened so fast, and she knew he’d been hurt before. Maybe he was scared, maybe he’d lost interest – either way, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine that Mack just hadn’t wanted this to last.

Elena deleted the message for the umpteenth time with a dejected sigh, swearing that this time she’d get over it once and for all.

  
(Even if she knew she’d break the promise just as she had the last six times she’d sworn she wouldn’t think of him.)


	10. January: if I had only felt how it feels to be yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Year's Eve at the Coulson house is many things, but never boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a Christmas Eve chapter, and then it was supposed to just be a short interlude between two chapters, and then it kind of exploded. I guess I just really love Bus Kids playing truth or dare. 
> 
> (Also @Tori: you better believe that title is a Sleeping at Last reference shiowehf)

Most teenagers Daisy knew spent New Years Eve with their families, or out at parties. First Baptist teenagers, though, spent New Years Eve in her living room_._

Their annual New Years Eve dinner was the stuff of legend: First Baptist always held a New Years Eve prayer service, and afterwards personal friends of the Coulsons from the staff and congregation – though really, anyone was invited – gathered in the Coulson’s dining room (in all its tacky-1980s-wallpapered glory). Other people spent the night at parties Daisy wouldn’t have been allowed within a mile of even if she’d tried, but she’d never really wanted to. She enjoyed parties, sure, but she was expected to be at these dinners, and…she liked them, anyhow. Her youth group friends rarely had anything better to do – strict parents were a trait most shared – so instead of dancing in a club full of sweaty, scantily-clad classmates, Daisy’s New Years Eves were spent with the youth group and heaping plates of Melinda May-Coulson’s pot stickers.

(She knew at least eight people who would go to war for those pot stickers. They alone were worth attendance.)

So that was how she found herself seated at their dining room table for the eighteenth year in a row, waiting for the pot stickers to be passed to her and observing the swarm of humanity clustered around her table. Jiaying, an older member who rarely spoke and struck Daisy as faintly homicidal, had awkwardly interposed herself between Piper and a mildly terrified Jemma. The four Koenig brothers, all employed at First Baptist in some capacity, were seated in a row that began with Mack and ended with Bobbi, whose seat was hemmed in on the other side by Lance; Lance, in turn, was flanked on his other side by Audrey Nathan, the director of the church’s music program. Even Maria Hill, principal of the church’s adjacent elementary school, had made an appearance, her seat separating those of (to their eternal consternation) Piper and Davis. And that wasn’t even counting the late arrivals who’d crowded into the kitchen for lack of space. 

Naturally, the place got rather loud, and even Daisy was absorbed in an argument with Robbie (who’d snagged the seat two to her left, much to the consternation of Lincoln, sitting to her right) when her father clinked a spoon against his glass to call the attention of the twenty-some people seated around their dining room table. Grace had been said and plates loaded, but one more Coulson family New Years Eve tradition hadn’t yet been performed. Daisy, knowing all too well what her father would say, stifled a groan.

“Would anyone like to propose a toast, before we begin?” the pastor asked, glancing around the table. Jemma, two seats down, shot Daisy a conspiratorial wink (not terribly subtle) and raised a glass of Martinelli’s (the closest they’d get to champagne). “Jemma?”

“To second chances,” she announced, with an _extremely _obvious glare at Mack. She was met with approving nods and clinking glasses all around; as if on cue (read: most certainly on cue), Piper raised her glass as soon as everyone was finished.

“To seizing opportunities,” Piper began-

“And overcoming fears,” Davis finished, too hammy to sound convincing but too committed to sound false. (Theatrics weren’t his strong suit and he found the whole scheme rather too amusing not to ham it up.) Again, both looked at Mack, which drew the entire table’s eyes’ to him; he’d begun to shift a little uncomfortably at all the attention, still slightly oblivious to the reason for it.

“To mending bridges.” Daisy was next to raise her glass, trying to be _slightly _more subtle with her glance at Mack than her friends had been.

“You guys have some great ones this year,” Phil commented as glasses clinked once more. “It’s nice to see that so many of you have that kind of ‘New Year, new chances’ attitude-“

“Hey, Daisy?” Jemma, sitting to her left, tapped Daisy’s shoulder. “You invited Fitz, right?”

Daisy nodded. “Of course,” she whispered. “Why, did-“

“He’s not here.” Jemma’s conspiratorial smirk fell. “I’m afraid I did something-“

“There’s, like, ten feet of snow on the ground, Jemma,” Daisy reassured her. “Maybe he just couldn’t get through. Driving ten miles in this can be…”

“Oh. You’re right.” Jemma bit her lip apprehensively. “Well, I could always just text him.”

“You do that.” Daisy smiled and glanced back up – all eyes on Mack again, after Lincoln had chimed in, according to their plan, with a toast to “new love.” (Even Phil looked uncomfortable with that one, seeing as he clearly thought Lincoln had been referring to his daughter.) Mack cleared his throat, starting to grasp what his youth group underlings were doing and none too ecstatic about it. Luckily, the awkward silence was broken as Melinda, trying not to laugh (she’d overheard everything), walked in with the first helping of pot stickers. The group dug in, Jemma smiled at her phone, and the toasts were forgotten in the scramble to shove down as much dinner as was physically possible before New Years resolutions kicked in the next day.

Then the doorbell rang, and Jemma bounded to her feet before anyone who actually lived in the house could get to the door.

* * *

“I think I’m gonna explode,” Davis announced as the kids, all completely stuffed with pot-stickers and other delicacies, trodded down the stairs to the Coulsons’ basement. “Dude. I have _no _self control around your mom’s cooking.”

“You have no self-control around _anyone’s _cooking,” Piper shot back, grimacing. “Neither do I, though.”

“I’d move to Buffalo for that apple pie,” Fitz agreed. He’d arrived too late for the famous pot-stickers, but the apple pie – a contribution from the Koenigs, at least one of whom (no one knew which) could bake like nobody’s business – had still been fair game.

“Please do,” Jemma teased. _And not just for the pie. _She hadn’t even expected Fitz to show up, given the distance and the fact that he didn’t, technically, _go _to First Baptist, but he’d become an honorary member of their youth group in recent months. No one questioned his inclusion, and he seemed to love it – had to, given that he’d driven ten miles in this to be here. (The reason for that epic trek completely evaded Jemma, glaring as it was to everyone else.)

“So, what do you guys say? Truth or dare, like always?” Daisy suggested as they settled on the assortment of blankets and pillows Daisy had arranged in a circle around a space heater in the basement.

(Truth-or-dare in a basement the temperature of the Arctic Circle, crowding around the heater in the hopes that they wouldn’t freeze to death: this was as rebellious as Coulson family New Years parties ever got.)

“I’m down, but we gotta set some ground rules,” Piper decided. “Remember the time when you guys made me-“

“Kiss Davis. We know,” the group droned in unison. Some unthinking individual had decided that was a great dare for Piper, who’d lived to regret picking _dare _that round, when they were in middle school; she hadn’t let them forget it.

“Yeah, so I think that if you want to, you should be able to pass on any dare,” Piper suggested.

“Works for me,” Davis agreed, shuddering at the memory.

“Nothing illegal,” Daisy decided. (Robbie looked mildly disappointed.)

“Nothing that could result in bodily harm,” Jemma added. (Piper and Davis looked _very _disappointed.)

“But other than that, we should be fine, right?” Piper asked, eager to end this before any more interesting dares were banned. When no one said anything, she continued. “Okay, cool. I’ll start. Davis, truth or dare?”

Davis sighed. “Of _course _you would…truth, I guess?” (He’d learned not to let Piper give him dares after what had happened last time. He couldn’t help but shudder at the memory.)

“Oh. I…thought you’d pick dare. Let me think…”

“Really? After you made me jump off the roof onto a trampoline no one had used in five years? You _actually _thought I’d pick ‘dare’?”

“Uh…was that kiss _actually _that horrible?” Piper asked lamely, shrugging. “Sorry. No idea what else to say.”

“Uh, yeah, because it was _you. _We just…_aren’t like that. At all.” _Davis grimaced. “No offense.”

“Oh, agreed. Glad we’re on the same page there.” Piper really did look relieved. “Next?”

“Hm. Uh…Lincoln, truth or dare?” Davis asked.

“Wait, me?” Lincoln _never _got asked. “Uh…truth, I guess.” He didn’t trust Davis’ dares.

“How did you and Daisy _finally _get together?” Davis asked.

Piper looked disgusted. “Really? _Another _love question?”

“Uh, Dais, can I…” Lincoln looked to Daisy for permission.

  
Daisy smirked. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Oh. Then, uh…” Lincoln couldn’t meet the eyes of anyone in the group. “We were talking on the dock at retreat, and then, uh, we kinda…kissed? And…that was pretty much it, yeah. I think.”

“_Everyone_ gets girlfriends at retreat except me,” Davis groaned. “Really? You, Fitz, Mack-“

“I’m sorry, _what?” _Fitz sputtered, his face beet-red. “I didn’t-why would you-“

“Hey, Lincoln, can I take your turn?” Daisy asked, smirking. (She’d had a flash of inspiration.) Lincoln, relieved to have the attention shifted away from him, nodded gratefully. “Fitz, truth or dare?”

“Um.” Fitz paused – dares could go south, but not as south as possibly being forced to confess to Jemma in front of the group if he picked _truth. _“Dare,” he decided.

Daisy leaned over to whisper something in his ear, and when she pulled back his face was even redder than it had been. (That shouldn’t have been possible – somehow it was.) “Really? Do you people _enjoy-“ _

“You can pass if you want,” Daisy reminded him. “And besides, you have, like-“ she glanced at her watch-“an hour to think about it.”

Something told her he’d go for it.

“Uh, Jemma?” Fitz asked, looking vaguely green. “Truth or dare?”

* * *

“So, how are things going with that woman you met at retreat?”

Melinda May-Coulson was many things. _Indirect _was not one of them.

“They’re not,” Mack replied, after the initial shock of hearing Elena mentioned had subsided. “I never got her number, even though she got mine, and she…never texted me, I guess.”

“Did you try calling her church? Even an e-mail? It isn’t ideal, but it would _work,” _Melinda asked, hoping against hope this wasn’t what she thought it was. (Her daughter had let on a little about the situation, but she’d never indicated that anything this drastic was going on.)

“I’ve had the number for St. Andrew’s on a Post-It at my computer for four months and never called it,” Mack admitted, immediately regretting it. _She’s definitely going to smack you now. _

“Alphonso Mackenzie!” Melinda yelped, utterly indignant. “You _connected_, and this is what you do at the first inconvenience?”

“Relationships aren’t easy, Melinda-“

Melinda crossed her arms. “I don’t care that it’s been four months, Mack. You’re calling St. Andrew’s and leaving a message for Elena before you leave this house.”

“She won’t even be in the office until-“

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Mack. And if you want, I’ll get your boss to make it an official order-“

“Fine. _Fine. _But this isn’t going to go anywhere. If she wanted to talk to me, she already would’ve texted.”

“Maybe not, Mack.” Melinda met his eyes. “And after seeing you so happy with her, I’m not going to let you throw away the chance that she might have other reasons.”

* * *

Fitz gulped. _Eleven fifty-five. _From the corner where she was curled up on a beanbag with Lincoln, Daisy gave him an encouraging glance. “I need fresh air,” he muttered to himself. Somehow, Jemma heard.

“I could use a little air myself,” she agreed. “Shall we?”

“Oh. Okay, uh, yeah,” Fitz stammered, gesturing to the stairs. “Wanna…step outside?”

Wordlessly, she followed him up the stairs. She couldn’t see him bite his lip in nervousness; he couldn’t see her wring her hands. Cutting through the crowds of people clustered in the kitchen and living room, they made their way to the back door. Aside from the yard itself, a small patio wrapped around the side of the house, and once they reached it, Fitz leaned against the snow-covered railing with a sigh.

“Eleven fifty-eight,” Jemma commented, glancing at her phone. “Want to count down?”

“Not really,” Fitz admitted. “I feel like this is supposed to be important, you know? But...”

“And yet it never feels like it is,” Jemma agreed. “Maybe we just…haven’t had a proper New Year’s Eve yet.”

_He’d have to be deaf to miss what I was implying, _Jemma couldn’t help but think. She hoped his affirmative grunt was proof of that. “Fifty-nine,” she supplied. “Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight…”

Jemma kept counting, facing out at the neighbor’s fence rather than meeting Fitz’s eyes. She swore her cheeks were burning, even in the twenty-degree night. Owing to their rush to get out the door, neither was even wearing a coat; Jemma had grabbed her hat, but aside from that, neither was dressed to be outside. Curious, then, how _hot _it felt. She stopped counting in the twenties when she remembered what she’d wanted to ask Fitz earlier.

“What did Daisy dare you to do earlier?” she asked, finally turning to face him.

“Uh.”

Fitz couldn’t very well be expected to form a coherent sentence at a time like this, but there was no _way – _standing here in the foot-deep snow on the patio in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt, in front of Jemma, her cheeks hot with more than the cold – that he could back down now.

So, as the clock struck midnight, he tentatively cupped her chin in one hand, and placed the other at the small of her back, and brushed his lips against hers – barely a peck in his nervousness, but it would get the point across. He fell back against the railing, a little shocked that he’d _done _that, so she stood in front of him – Fitz’s back against the railing, Jemma a few inches in front of him with a totally blank expression.

Then Jemma’s eyes widened, and her face broke into a smile that Fitz swore could’ve powered a small town for a week, and she kissed him for all she was worth.

“Remind me to thank Daisy sometime,” she muttered. “Thought you’d never do that.”

Fitz grinned, pulling back from the place where he’d rested against her forehead. “Thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

The clock struck twelve, and Mack had no intention of going up against an enraged Melinda in full-on Momma May mode if he failed to complete her directive before leaving, so, with a long, regretful sigh, Fitz dialed the number he’d (maybe) had memorized for months now.

“Hey, Elena,” he told the St. Andrew’s voicemail. “I know you won’t get this for a few days, but…happy New Year.”

He didn’t know what scared him more – knowing how much he’d said or how much more he wished he would have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Mack and Elena weren't supposed to have any contact for three more chapters...but I realized I was going to murder this story's three (3) loyal readers with suspense if I didn't at least TEASE a reunion, so here ya go. :p


	11. Friday, February 12th: Home Stretch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As First Baptist's long-awaited Winter Retreat gets underway, the kids prepare for the weekend that will make or break their months-long matchmaking scheme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are indeed in the home stretch now! The kids are just about ready to reunite Mack and Elena...but first, another establishing chapter ;)

“All right, everyone here?” Mack asked, heaving a few more overstuffed duffle bags from the trunk of the van. “I should have…eight of you, right?”

  
“Present and accounted for,” Daisy said after taking a moment to conduct a dubiously-reliable headcount. “Which cabin?”

“I’m getting to that,” Mack replied, setting the last bag down in the snow. “Come get your stuff first, though. Can’t have your bags soaking through.”

Eight overzealous teenagers (he’d never seen a group so excited to be on a winter retreat – it made him wonder, with a little nervousness, what exactly was going on) stampeded the van to claim their luggage and barely stayed in one place long enough to hear Mack shout “cabins five-fifteen and five-sixteen!” over their excited cacophony of laughter and shouts. Daisy’s question had been a formality – they all knew which cabins the church rented every year for its winter retreat, the weekend-long winter equivalent of the longer retreat they attended every summer. Kids weren’t usually this excited to spend a weekend dodging the snowballs flying at them from every conceivable angle and direction or discussing the Bible passages that best corresponded with that year’s theme – these same students hadn’t been half so energetic even last year. A vague sense of worry had been forming in the back of Mack’s mind since he’d seen Jemma, Daisy, and Piper huddled together, chattering _furiously, _in the parking lot before they left; they were probably up to something. Bobbi and Lance were delayed and heading up Saturday morning, so tonight, he’d be without any adult backup if the kids decided to try anything; it was rather important, in the moment, that he stay on top of things. _They better not be pranking each other again, _he hoped, remembering the prank war Daisy had incited on this retreat as a freshman with almost no fondness.

He’d have to keep an eye on them.

(At least they would keep him distracted from the month-old voicemail he still hadn’t opened.)

By the time Mack had locked up the van and lugged his own bags up to the cabin, they were already settled in, the girls haggling for choice bunks in Cabin 515 and the boys, in Cabin 516, going about their business in near-silence in the absence of their more talkative friends. There were still two hours until the eleven-o’clock curfew, and Friday nights were set aside to let the retreatants settle in and socialize. Naturally, the group reformed in the girls’ cabin as soon as they could. When they’d all finished claiming bunks and unpacking, the boys migrated over to Cabin 515, where the girls were huddled up on the hardwood floor. Sleeping bags and blankets were strewn everywhere in an attempt to stave off the chill, and cabin’s ancient thermostat was cranked up so high that it was emitting a buzzing noise that sounded a little too much like a dying laptop for comfort. Piper was passing around a package of Oreos that had already nearly been emptied, and Daisy had an industrial-sized box of Cheez-Its in her lap (she’d made a Costco run, clearly – nowhere else would she have been able to buy such absurd quantities of processed wheat).

“Close the door?” Jemma asked as soon as the last of the boys filed in. “We have urgent matters to-“

“This is _it, _guys!” Daisy interrupted, clapping her hands together. Donnie, a shy freshman who almost never spoke, shot her a judgmental glare that rivaled Robbie’s. She ignored both. “We’ve been planning this since _August, _so…y’all better be excited to finally see it happen. Just saying.”

“We’re not,” Robbie said, his arms crossed.

Daisy shot him her most cherubic smile. “Sure we aren’t, _Roberto.”_

(Lincoln, as he always did when caught in the middle of his girlfriend’s frequent clashes with her ex, looked as if he would quite like to shuffle off the mortal coil right about now.)

“So _anyway,” _Jemma cut in, eager to steer the conversation back on track. “Everyone knows the plan, right?”

“Step one, stop our youth group from crossing paths with the St. Andrew’s group before the hike tomorrow night,” Piper announced with a little too much aplomb. “Sorry, Jemma.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Jemma replied graciously, completely missing (or maybe disregarding?) Piper’s snub. “We can’t get Elena to go along with it without Fitz, anyway. Small price to pay.”

“How noble of you,” Piper said sarcastically, “to give up this precious time with your _boyfriend _for a greater cause.”

(Jemma wasn’t quite sure how the group had found out about their budding relationship – they were always cautious to avoid PDA – but however they’d found out, they hadn’t stopped teasing her about it since. It was tiresome, but…sweet. Sometimes it was nice to be reminded of her good fortune.)

“Step two,” Davis cut in, intervening before his best friend could derail the conversation any further. “Make sure Fitz convinces Elena to take a night hike at the same time we do.”

“On the same route,” Lincoln added, wanting to be useful.

“Step three,” Piper said. “Meet up with St. Andrew’s youth group on night hike.”

“Step four,” Davis said. “Disappear into the woods so they can have their touching reunion in-“

“That wasn’t the plan, Davis. If we run off, they’re going to be looking for us, not reuniting.”

“-peace,” Davis finished, unperturbed.

“Wait, then what was the real plan?” Piper asked, genuinely nonplussed.

“Disappear into the woods _but make a lot of noise so they know we’re okay and weren’t eaten by bears,” _Daisy corrected.

“Bears are hibernating this time of year,” Jemma corrected. “It would more likely be the hypothermia that killed us.”

Crickets – an awkward silence fell across the room.

“Oh…kay.” Daisy inhaled sharply. “You guys get the gist of this plan, right? At least a little bit?”

“We’ll be _fine,” _Davis insisted. “We got this!”

“I don’t know if you understand how unlikely this is to work if we don’t keep them apart,” Daisy sighed, running a hand through her ponytail. “I’ve overheard him talking to my mom about this, and…he’s not sure if he’s ready. I don’t think he’s even going to _talk _to Elena if he’s not _so _caught off-guard that there’s no other choice.”

“Isn’t that, I don’t know, _borderline-psychotic levels of manipulative?” _Robbie asked, looking over the whole scene – Daisy’s impassioned gestures, everyone taking Ritz Crackers out of the tube Jemma was passing around – with thinly-veiled disgust.

“Oh, definitely,” Jemma said, batting her eyelashes coyly. _(Since when does she know how to be coy? That’s new, _Daisy wondered.) “But it’s for their own good.”

“Do we really know that this is good for them?” Robbie challenged, knowing he’d pinpointed the most easily-flustered member of the group. “What right do we have to-“

“Robbie, _enough.” _Daisy rubbed her temple; Lincoln gave her free hand a reassuring squeeze. “We all know this is unrealistic, and stupid, and probably won’t work. But hey. It’s worth a try, right?”

  
“For love,” Piper finished, dead-serious for once.

“For love,” Jemma echoed.

“For _what_?”

The circle collectively froze.

Mack stood in the doorway, nonplussed, in plaid pajama pants and last year’s summer retreat t-shirt, utterly unaware of the plotting going on just a cabin over from the bunk where he’d been reclining in 516.

“For-“

“You know what, I don’t even want to know,” Mack sighed, beginning to swing the door shut. “Lights-out in thirty. Boys, back to your own cabin in fifteen.”

Daisy and Jemma exchanged a look.

“This might get complicated,” Jemma whispered.

“Yeah…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the final teaser trailer, if you will.


	12. Saturday, February 13th: Rhyme Scheme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their matchmaking scheme nears completion, Jemma, Fitz, Daisy, and co. embark on the most challenging leg of their plan yet: keeping Mack and Elena from realizing they're in the same place until the appointed time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jemma's injury-prone nature is really becoming a plot device here, isn't it?
> 
> Title is a reference to the fact that they’re scheming, and this sorta “rhymes” with notable events in a previous chapter (you’ll know it when you see it), and “rhyme scheme” is a thing...bow before my AP Literature poetry vocab. (No, don’t - it was really the only thing I could come up with.)

Jemma glanced at her phone again, reviewing the typed-up schedule Fitz had provided. It was a few minutes shy of seven in the evening and the St. Andrews group, up on its retreat at the same time (the coincidence – or not? – that had made this all possible), would be wrapping up their first round of outdoor activities right about now. Their next time slot, dinner at 7:15, would have them entering the cafeteria right as First Baptist finished eating.

It went without saying, once she’d sent the schedule to their group chat (because of _course _Piper had created a group chat for their plans, aptly titled “The Youth Pastor Trap” followed by about six steam-coming-out-of-nostrils emojis), getting the group out of the hall efficiently come 7:15 – and making sure Mack was the first one out so that the chance of an Elena sighting on his way out was lowered – was priority number one.

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right,” Daisy had insisted earlier in the day. “We can’t just let it _happen. _We have to make it _good, _see? So if the plan’s to reunite them on the hike, they can’t bump into each other before then. Like, for _any _reason. That’s priority – making sure our schedule doesn’t overlap with the one Fitz sent.”

(Considering the twelve-hour interval outside the cabins between the end of their morning Bible study at nine A.M. and the beginning of the nighttime hike on which they’d finally meet up, this was a tall order.)

And no matter how surly certain members of the group (Robbie) had acted at first, everyone had pulled together, pitching in to make sure they didn’t meet. Piper had taken on the task of sending around updates when groups were dispersed throughout different areas of the camp (some students had chosen to try snowshoeing, others cross-country skiing, and still others had chosen to stay in and read or play board games), making sure someone always knew where Mack was. Jemma acted as liaison with Fitz and passed on his updates about Elena’s whereabouts to the group so that whoever was with Mack (someone always had to be) could make sure their paths didn’t cross. And Fitz, who couldn’t leave Elena’s side as the sole informant in his youth group, had the trickiest job: he had to keep up ever-shifting alibis for his constant presence wherever Elena was, good enough to convince her that he wasn’t up to anything. (Daisy, besides her role as overseer of the whole operation, had taken it upon herself to come up with those.) Lincoln, Davis, and whomever else happened to be around acted as Mack’s bodyguards of sorts, accompanying him and using their friends’ updates in the group chat to make sure he never strayed too near Elena’s last location.

“Really, “ Jemma had told Daisy earlier, “for a half-baked, unrealistic plan made by teenagers, it’s surprisingly airtight.”

  
And it was. She couldn’t help but grin to herself when she thought of what they were going to pull off that night. The snow on the ground and the ice covering every open surface of the camp made for difficult terrain, but it also lent its hiking trails an otherworldly beauty at night, illuminated by flashlights from below. Jemma was the one who’d come up with the actual location where they’d try to reunite Mack and Elena: on last year’s nighttime hike, she’d stumbled across a thin strip of trail hemmed in on both sides by low-hanging trees. They’d lost their leaves and their branches were covered in a thin, pearlescent layer of ice this time of year, so the tunnel they formed overhead glittered when light shone on it. It was one of the most beautiful places Jemma had ever seen, and undoubtedly the most romantic.

And, as a logistical perk, it was located almost equidistant from both sides of the trail, so if St. Andrews started its hike from one end and First Baptist from the other, they’d meet at the spot without too much delay. The kids would ask for a water break, their counselors would _finally _cross paths in The Tunnel of Love (Piper and Davis’ name of choice for the spot), and all would be well. If they could keep up their so-far smashing success for a little less than two more hours, and they’d be seeing it all come to fruition.

_If, _that is, they could pull it off, which was rather questionable.

“Okay, it’s seven-oh-five, guys,” Daisy told the table after a glance at her phone. “We gotta move out.”

“Buf I’m nof finobsh,” Davis protested through a gaping mouthful of breadstick. “Goba lemme finobsh fiwht!”

  
“Dude.” Piper crossed her arms. “We’re supposed to throw away the thing we’ve been planning for _months _so you can have some _breadsticks?” _

Indignant and chipmunk-cheeked, Davis gestured frantically at the plate of baked ziti he still had to eat.  
  


“That’s your third plate,” Daisy told him, “and we’ve gotta go _now, _so unless you can shove it in your pocket, no can do.”

(Perhaps out of spite or perhaps simply because he could, Davis walked off immediately and came back a moment later with nothing in his hands but, later in the day, would periodically pull seemingly endless breadsticks from his many pockets to snack on as he mourned for his lost serving of pasta.)

“Okay, we ready to move now?” Jemma asked when Davis returned. “We have five minutes, but” – she glanced purposefully at the nearby table where Mack sat with a few other counselors whose groups were in attendance – “we have to use that time in case they’re early. Everyone done?”

When no one protested, Jemma nodded, called “we’re heading out!” to Mack (who was obliged to follow), and safely exited the hall with eight minutes to spare. Jemma and Daisy exchanged triumphant grins – the next hour and a half would be Praise and Worship in a hall they’d rented for the evening, and from there they’d go straight to the cabin to get ready for the hike. From here on out, it was smooth sailing. So when Jemma’s phone buzzed in her pocket, she was already smiling as she checked the notification. Especially when it read _New Message From: Fitz <3. _Especially as she opened her phone and began to read the words on the screen, ones she could barely process in all her success-drunken stupor, and as she kept on climbing the incline back up to the cabin she _tried _to get the words to sink in, but the path was slick and bumpy and-

_Thud. _

She pitched forward, her phone flying from her hands as she scrambled to catch herself, but there was nothing around her to pull herself upright as her foot collided with an icy tree root, and as she fell her body angled itself away from the patch of rocks to her right-

  
But her ankle didn’t follow, and as she gave in to gravity, she heard a sickening _crack _and felt as if she was _right here, right now, going to spontaneously combust, _and _just let me die please I feel like I’m on fire and it’s twenty degrees that isn’t natural please please please – _

“_Jemma!” _Daisy cried, scrambling up the slope towards her fallen friend.

“What is it? What happened?” Mack called from a few yards back, sprinting to the scene.

  
“Jemma?” Fitz called, a few hundred feet in front of her, confused until he saw her phone lying face-up in the snow, his message still on her screen. Only then did Jemma, almost delirious with pain, reach for it, miraculously uncracked (and a lot more fortunate than her ankle), and her eyes widened in abject terror when she _finally _read the message.

** _SOS!!!! WE’RE COMING UP TO DINNER PAST YOUR CABINS!!! CLEAR OUT BEFORE THEY SEE EACH OTHER!!!_ **

** _[Sent: 7:08 P.M., from Fitz <3.]_ **

_“Jemma?!?_ _Mija_, what happened?” a fourth voice - with a faint accent, full of concern - called, incredulous, as its owner raced over to help Jemma to her feet, barely comprehending what her presence met as she rushed to her aid. 

She nearly collided with Mack, not realizing who he was, but she shook herself off in time to grab one of Jemma’s arms and hoist her up.

Then Elena lifted her face.

  
And she _knew _it was the _last thing in the world _that mattered right now, but the moment she saw his face, the words couldn’t be stopped before they were out of her mouth.

_“Alphonso Mackenzie, why did you never call me back?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a plan for this chapter. Almost from the beginning, I knew exactly where I wanted this to go. Everything was supposed to be fluffy and adorable and perfectly, enchantingly romantic. And then I almost broke my ankle, and I just...didn't.
> 
> I took a hard face-first dive into the street while running, and while I was showering, trying to get the dirt and gravel I'd absorbed in the fall off of myself, I realized - despite the odd timing, thinking about fanfic right after a major injury - that I didn't want to go with that idea. I no longer wanted a perfect, idyllic reunion. I wanted something messy and accidental and just a little knock-you-down-a-peg (because...let's face it, it's a cute idea, but these children do not need to be amply rewarded for their inappropriate meddling with a plan that goes perfectly. I loved the idea of their better intentions being honored - love is rekindled - but their worse intentions falling sharply by the wayside). 
> 
> So I wrote it. 
> 
> It's short, but I wrote it. 
> 
> And I love it. 
> 
> I hope you do too.


	13. Saturday, February 13th, part II: but in the end, it's right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment we've all been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long and winding road to get here, and I hope you're satisfied with the destination. To those of you who've been here since the start: I love you all <3

“We had a good thing going, and then you just _ignore _me?” Elena screeched, grabbing the handle above her and holding on so tightly it threatened to rip off the ancient van’s wall as it swerved precariously down the mountain road. “I thought I _loved _you, and I literally knew you for a _week! _And I _never _think that!”

  
“Elena, _not _the time!” Mack replied, gritting his teeth as he turned the steering wheel. He had to ignore the swooping feeling in his stomach at the mere sight of her, let alone a single word she was saying; he’d probably drive them straight off the mountain if he let himself think about what he was doing.

“I just don’t understand what you were-“

“You loved me? Great! Maybe you should have _told me that, _since you were the one who _got the other’s number, _which I did _not!” _Mack snapped, his resistance to her quarrel-baiting finally wearing thin. “I waited _weeks _for you to text me-“

“And I waited _months _for you to call St. Andrew’s!”

“Really? _Really?” _

“Yes, _really!” _Elena cried through gritted teeth, bracing herself in her seat. “And please, Mack, you’re going to crash this thing!” 

“Being in a car wreck would be hurt less than _this,” _Jemma called from the backseat, her voice wobbly with pain. Her swelling ankle was wrapped in ice, and she was hopped up on as much Ibuprofen as they could get their hands on, but none of it did much to alleviate the pain. 

At that, Mack’s demeanor shifted instantly. “How are you holding up back there, Jemma?” he asked, his voice now full of fatherly concern.

“Terrible,” she told him, no-holds-barred. “Everything hurts, and I can’t go on the night hike-“

“Night hike?” Elena perked up. “The same night hike Fitz has been begging to go on for two weeks?”

“What?” Mack finally turned to look at her _(don’t crash! Do NOT crash! _He had to remind himself as he finally looked her full in the face – _she’s gorgeous. She’s gorgeous. She’s GORGEOUS. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DRIVE A CAR THAT SHE’S IN?). _“First Baptist has done that night hike every year since I started here. Why’s Fitz-“

“Probably because of Jemma?” Elena conjectured. “It makes sense, right?”

“We didn’t even know your group was here until tonight, though,” Mack said, oblivious. “Maybe-“

“Oh, you two are _so _dense,” Jemma muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Mack asked. “We’re so-“

“Dense!” Jemma threw up her hands, abandoning all pretense of secrecy. “You are so _dense! _Of _course _I knew he would be here!”

“I mean, she _is _his girlfriend. She probably would,” Elena reasoned.

“Why, why, _why _would _Fitz, _of all people, ask to go _hiking?” _Jemma yelped, distracting herself from her ankle by any means necessary. “It’s _Fitz. _Think about that.”

“That’s…a good question.” Elena glanced back up at Mack, her features softer – almost smiling. “Mack…”

“What?” he asked. “Am I supposed to get what you’re implying?”

“_You!” _Jemma burst out. “He asked to go on that hike for _you! _It was going to be _beautiful, _and we had it all planned out so you wouldn’t realize what was happening until we all got to the Tunnel of Love, and we did a _good job _keeping you apart until _this-“ _

“The _Tunnel of Love?” _Elena burst out laughing. “Do I even _want _to know?”

“Wh-what?” Mack asked tremulously. The van’s borderline-reckless speed dropped by at least half. “Jemma…what did you do?”

“Mack, you _turtle,” _Elena cackled. “They were _setting us up.” _

The van screeched to a stop.

“Jemma. Anne. _Simmons!”_

Jemma cringed. “I…really should not have said that,” she muttered, waiting for the dam to break.

“That is _so inappropriate, _on _so _many levels, and I cannot_ believe _you would-that you’d-who else was in on this?” Mack shouted, his face burning. _Really? It took _that _to get me to talk to her? _

“Just me,” Jemma said, hoping she sounded more convinced than she did.

“Jemma, you said ‘we’,” Elena teased, her face flushed with mirth. “And…you’re not in trouble.”

“Yes she is!”

“Mack, let the girl talk. Was this stupid? Yes. Manipulative? Extremely. But…they had good intentions-“

“Yup, and the road to hell is paved with those, so…”

“And really? They’ve been plotting this the whole weekend-“

“Weekend? Please. We started planning this the week after we got back from camp this summer,” Jemma said, enjoying this reveal a little more than she should be now that Elena had essentially immunized her against Mack’s wrath.

  
Elena muttered something unintelligible and probably rather salty under her breath. “Okay, _months. _That’s worse. They’ve been planning this for _months _and you never caught on?”

Mack had nothing to say to that; he simply sighed.

“And it worked.” Her voice came out softer this time and she laid her palm flat against his forearm with a tiny smile. “Were you ever going to listen to my voicemail? Clearly not. So they did me a favor.”

“Okay, this is touching, and I’m totally_ not_ filming and sending it to Daisy, but my ankle?” Jemma cut in. “Hospital?”

“Right, sorry,” Mack sighed. “Once we get this ankle of yours fixed, we’re going to have a serious talk about boundaries.”

“Right,” Jemma said knowingly.

(Their plan hadn’t gone off, but…this could work. And with all luck, they’d be too busy kissing by the time her ankle was casted to give her a talking-to about anything.)

* * *

“How are you okay with this?”

“Oh, I’m not,” Elena sighed, leaning across the arm of the waiting room chair to rest against Mack’s shoulder. “They were insane to even try it. But I can’t argue with the result.”

“Mm.” Mack no longer had to pretend not to feel as if he were on fire at the smallest touch, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, marveling at the way she fit under his arm as if she’d been made to be there. (_That’s a good line. I gotta use that later, _he decided.) “Well, is it really their doing if this wasn’t actually their plan?”

“Well, she slipped because she was trying to read a text, which was probably from Fitz, which likely had something to do with their plan, so…yes,” Elena decided. “But I still want to know what the ‘Tunnel of Love’ is.”

“That, I _do _know,” Mack sighed. “Well, not that they’d named it that, but…I know what it is. There’s this spot on the route we hike where some trees bend inwards and the branches sort of make an overpass, so it looks like a tunnel. In the winter, they glaze over with ice, so when you shine a flashlight on it, it looks like a Christmas card. Jemma’s always been obsessed with it.”

“Sounds romantic,” Elena teased.

  
“Oh, it definitely is,” Mack replied, squeezing her shoulder. “I don’t approve of any of this, but if it had worked, the ambiance would have been perfect.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have worked if they’d done what they planned on,” Elena said. “If there was no compelling reason for me to talk to you, I would’ve pretended I hadn’t seen you and kept walking.”

“Harsh, Rodriguez.”

“And you would have done exactly the same.”

“True,” Mack sighs. “Well-“

“Proof that whenever a bunch of teenagers have a plan, God has a better one.”

“Elena, saying something sentimental? That’s a new one.”

“You don’t want to test me right now, Turtleman.”

  
“Says the one who had my number and didn’t use it for six months?”

“Says the one who never checked his voicemail?”

  
“Why are we so bad at this?” Mack sighed, leaning back against the armchair.

  
“We’ve been hurt before?” Elena guessed. “We both like to run from our feelings? We’re idiots?”

“All three,” Mack decided. “Elena, I’m…”

“Sweating? Yeah. You are.” She let go of his hand in mock disgust. “Why are you so nervous? It’s _me.” _

“I was going to say ‘glad I found you again,’ and wow, thanks. Nope, I have _no_ reason to be nervous around a woman who ghosted me for six months.”

“I could say the same of you!”

“Well, you never gave me your number, so that wasn’t exactly encouraging.”

“Hence why it took a kid breaking her ankle to get us to talk to each other,” she sighed.

“Yeah. A kid who managed to reunite with a boy from your youth group, _and _plan to reunite _us, _however many months later, the _week we got back.” _

“It’s cute, you have to admit,” Elena mused. “That they cared enough to put all this time and effort into making sure we got back together?”

  
“No, it’s manipulative and inappropriate, and were we ever together in the first place?”

“Mack, come on. They’re _kids.” _

“Three of the kids in my youth group are eighteen, so no, they’re technically not.”

“You can drop the tough-guy act. I already know you’re a giant marshmallow,” Elena teased, squeezing his forearm.

“Marshmallows. Ha.” Mack couldn’t help but smile. “You still eat them wrong?”

“If you mean do I still eat marshmallows _efficiently, _then yes. I do.” Elena rolled her eyes fondly.  
“Good times, huh?”

“Good times,” Mack agreed. “I missed you.”

“So did I,” Elena replied. “Jokes aside. I really did.”

“We really are worse at this than a bunch of fifteen-year-olds, aren’t we?” Mack sighed.

“Mmhm. Can I kiss you yet?”

Mack stiffened with surprise. “Huh? _Here?” _

“No, in the parking lot,” Elena huffed. “Yes, Mack, _here. _It’s been…what, seven months?...and I want to kiss you. So _can I, _or am I just going to have to wait even longer-“

“Elena, we are _in a hospital.” _Mack tried not to sound too enthusiastic (he would have quite liked to indulge her but for propriety). “One of my youth group kids just _broke a bone. _This is not the time.”

“Yeah, and seven months ago, you were flirting with me not ten seconds after the _same kid _almost drowned. How is this any different?”

Mack sighed. “Are you _always _right?”

“No, just most of the time.” Elena smiled up at him with entirely faked innocence. “So are you gonna…?”

“You know I can’t say no,” he sighed, and soon he was too caught in the feeling of her lips against his to notice the figure standing in the doorway, one hand holding up her crutches while the other clutched a phone in video mode, smiling ear to ear as she recorded the evidence of her success (with absolutely no attempt at stealth) for her friends.

Elena pulled away a moment later with a knowing grin and Jemma’s phone immediately returned to her jacket pocket. “Matchmaking is one thing, but you gotta delete that,” she said wryly.

“Wait, she-“ Mack’s eyes widened. _Seriously? _

“Filmed that. Yup.”

“_Jemma Anne Simmons_!”

“Deleted,” Jemma sighed with a few halfhearted swipes.

“You are in _so much-“_

“Luck that this worked,” Elena finished. “That Tunnel of Love thing? You’d never have gotten us to talk doing that.”

“I was going to say _trouble, _but that too,” Mack sighed. “They let you go?”

“Mm-hm,” Jemma said, her face aglow with pride. She was clearly too caught up in her success to realize that there’d be consequences for this; that could come later.

But for now, she had her success, and that was all she cared about.

“Then let’s head home,” Elena told them, and both were all too happy to oblige.


	14. August, one year later: and I lift my hands and pray (to be only yours)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mack is a little too obsessed with Song of Solomon (ROOOOLL CREDITS!), docks are scary, and things come full-circle in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been written for days, but I had to wait to post. Now it's time! There's a massive and confusing time jump, and I'm posting this in a blaze of glory while listening to "Only Hope" on loop, but here you go...the second-to-last chapter.

“It’s weird being up here without half of my youth group.”

“I wish,” Elena huffed, leaning against the guard railing that the owners of the Allegheny Christian Conference Center had prudently added to the dock since last summer. “I love my kids, but some of them…I can’t wait to see graduate.”

  
“When it’s Grant Ward? Understandable.”

“I’m glad I still have some of them, though. Fitz. He’s sweet. And look how much happier he was to come back this summer.” She smiled at the memory. “Last year his parents practically had to shove him into the bus. This year he was _smiling _when we pulled up. _Smiling!” _

“The Jemma Simmons effect,” Mack replied. “And she’d always been…exactly the same way. “But now…I don’t know what exactly changed, but she’s just as excited as you’re saying Fitz was.”

“Part of me wants to think they had some sort of conversion experience on the last retreat, but…I’ll take whatever this is.” Elena shifted, resting her chin on her fist. “They’re cute, aren’t they?”

“They are. And now Fitz is practically a member at First Baptist. Better get Jemma to start coming to _your _youth group before I claim him.” Mack turned a little to face Elena, unable to keep from smiling. “Those kids were totally setting us up last year, weren’t they?”

“Fitz, the least-outdoorsy person in my group, begging to go _hiking? _Please.” Elena chuckled. “They weren’t as slick as they thought they were.”

“And I’m grateful for that every day, Elena.”

“Oh, I am too,” Elena assured him with a little eye-roll at his sappiness. (Classic.) “I just thought it was funny how hard they tried to look like nothing was going on, thinking they had us fooled, when we actually knew the entire time, no?”

“Watching Daisy and Jemma scheme was…something,” Mack agreed. “But I guess mine were a little more stealthy than yours, because I didn’t catch on for a while. Or maybe I was just oblivious.”

“You’re always oblivious, Turtleman.” Elena leaned against his arm, which he instinctively moved around her shoulders.

“But I always get the point _eventually.” _

“Yeah, after leaving me to agonize over what I did wrong for four months,” Elena quipped. (She felt him stiffen and immediately regretted it.) “I mean, not that I didn’t have my share of the blame. The ball was in my court-“

“Elena, none of that matters now.” He squeezed her shoulder. “’I looked for the one my heart loves’-“

  
“You’re gonna use Song of Solomon to shut me up, Mack? Seriously?”

“No, if I wanted to shut you up, I’d just kiss you. I’m using Song of Solomon to _make a point.” _

“Mm-hm.” Elena grinned slyly. “I think I could use some shutting up right about now.”

“No, that’s not the-ugh.” Mack let out a long sigh. “That was not a smooth segue. Can I start over?”

Elena side-eyed him. “Mack. What’s going on?”

“I, uh. You know what I’ve always liked about that book of the Bible?” he asked, not even an iota less awkward than he’d been a moment before.

“No idea, but I’m thirty and I can’t get through that book without blushing, so please enlighten me as to why _you _think it’s so great.”

“It’s that phrase I was just saying,” Mack told her. “’I looked for the one my heart loves.’ I didn’t finish it, but that verse ends with ‘I looked for him but did not find him.’ ‘I looked for the one my heart loves; I looked for him but did not find him.’”

“Well, that’s just depressing-“

“No, wait. It isn’t that verse that I love. That’s the first verse of the chapter. But a few verses later, we get that again, but this time it’s ‘I found the one my soul loves.’ The woman speaking is just looking and looking and isn’t finding this person she loves, and then…she just _does. _I thought about that verse a lot when we weren’t talking.”

“Mack…”

“’I’ve found the one my soul loves,’” he repeated. Elena noted with concern that the hand resting against the small of her back had begun to tremble slightly. “That’s what I felt like when we met. It had been forever since I’d loved anyone that way, and all of the sudden, there was _you, _and I couldn’t do a thing about it. Didn’t even want to.”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Elena asked, snuggling under his arm.

  
“And then I lost you again,” he continued, skirting the question. He took her hands and, almost imperceptibly slowly, began to guide her towards the end of the dock, where the guardrails and shouts of campers were less glaringly and unromantically obvious. “But look at us now. Our story’s been a lot of losing and finding. And through all of that, God’s never let us out of each other’s sights so far that we don’t find each other again. That’s not a coincidence, Elena.”

“No,” she agreed. “It isn’t. But that still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Give me a moment.” Mack began to fish around in his pocket. “Anyway. Losing, finding, okay, I said all that, what else was I supposed to say, ah, here it is” – he dug a box from the pocket of his totally-unnecessary jacket – “Elena, I never want to have to look for you again.” He moved the hand holding the box, which he’d concealed behind his back, into her view, and gingerly attempted to crouch to one knee without falling on his face, wrestled the stubborn band of a ring from its plush satin interior –

And, with clammy, shaking hands, let said ring slip from his fingers.

With a look of sheer terror, he _bolted _to his feet, throwing himself off-balance as he swerved to his left to catch the projectile engagement ring, and snatched it in still-slick fingers after a few harrowing seconds, and-

Lost what precarious footing he’d had, and collapsed, flailing for purchase in as undignified a manner as could be expected, into the lake.

The lake, where, two years ago, he’d met the woman whose engagement ring he’d just taken an undistinguished plunge into a lake for.

“Sorry, that was supposed to be romantic.” He held the ring aloft – _saved it! – _and shook the water from his eyes to look back at Elena, standing on the edge of the dock with mirth and tenderness fighting for control of her expression. “Anyway. Elena Rodriguez, will you marry me?”

“The fall into the lake really sealed the deal,” she teased, crouching at the end of the dock to meet his eyes. “And if you didn’t get it, _as is your custom, _that means yes.”

“You know, I really can’t kiss you from here-“

“Might as well bring this full-circle, then,” Elena replied, moisture welling up in her eyes. She slipped off her tennis shoes and, grimacing at the cold at first, climbed down the ladder leading into the water. “Remember, this is where we met?”

“’Course I do,” he replied.

  
But only after the first of many kisses to come, and easily the greatest.


	15. June, two years later: I have found the one my heart loves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years after it all began, the cast returns to the Allegheny Christian Conference Center for a celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST! CHAPTER!

“You’ve definitely had a college glow-up,” Jemma announced, stabbing one last pin into Daisy’s updo. Daisy rolled her eyes.

“Flattering, but nope, definitely not.” She adjusted the satin sash at the waist of her ruby velvet cocktail dress, covering the seam where the fitted bodice gave way to a fuller skirt. “You, on the other hand…” she sized up Jemma’s ombre-dyed skirt and black velvet bodice. “It’s only been two years since I left, but you already look five years older.”

  
“Flattering, but nope, definitely not,” Jemma parroted with a teasing smile. “You excited, though?”

Daisy’s eyes sparkled. “_Please, _Jemma. Remember that parent-trap thing we did? It _actually worked_. I would _pay _to be ready for this.” Her expression grew a little wistful as she remembered that summer, when they’d all been young and stupid enough to think that meddling in their youth pastors’ love lives was a good idea – and gone at it with enough enthusiasm to pull it off.

“It feels like so long ago,” Jemma mumbled, playing with the hem of her skirt. “I miss that summer.”

“I think we all do,” Daisy sighed, reminiscing. After a moment, her mouth quirked up at the edges. “Best retreat we ever went on.”

“Oh, definitely. And, I mean, at least I’ve got Fitz to remember it by.” Jemma grinned. “Remember how he wanted to run as far away as he could when we told him about our plan?”

“And he went on to become our best double-agent,” Daisy joked. “Full disclosure, I think it was because of you.”

“Oh, I _know _it was because of me.” It was _delightful _to feel that kind of certainty, to know he was as head-over-heels as she.

“Think it’s time to go,” Daisy said, checking her phone. “Ready for this, Simmons?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” She slung her arm around Daisy’s shoulders – _solidarity, sister – _and they walked into the familiar chapel, already filling with guests. Its large windows let the morning sunlight filter in gently, filling the room with warmth and dappling it with color as the light filtered through the stained-glass windows crowning each wall. They took their seats with Daisy’s mother at the front, where their beloved youth pastor already stood at the altar.

“Hey, girls?” Melinda asked as they settled into their seats.

“Yeah?” Daisy asked, taking in the ornate decorations rather than her mother’s words.

“Don’t tell anyone I said this, but you did a great job.” She playfully elbowed Daisy’s side, a gesture so foreign she nearly did a double-take.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Coulson,” Jemma replied, gracious enough for both of them. “We were only doing our duty as concerned members of his youth group to-“

“Right.” Melinda rolled her eyes. “You know, two years ago, I would’ve warned you against this. But I have to say, you made it work.”

“My mother, condoning her daughter meddling in the lives of adults? Have I entered a parallel universe?” Daisy asked, smirking. It wasn’t like Melinda to endorse their methods, but it was hard for _anyone _to argue with their results.

“It was a bad idea. That doesn’t mean it didn’t work.” Melinda smirked right back. “Oh, and Daisy?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t like your tone, young lady.”

“Mom, I’m _twenty.” _

“And I’m your mother, Daisy May-Coulson-“ she was cut off when her husband swung by to plant a kiss on her cheek on the way to the altar.

“You look absolutely stunning, Mellie,” he told her, trying to whisper and utterly failing. “And Dais? Is that my daughter or a grown woman?”

“Dad.” Daisy rolled her eyes fondly, standing to give her father a quick hug. “You better not say anything weird up there.”

“Ah. There’s my daughter.” He patted her back and continued on to the altar. Slowly, their friends began to trickle in: Piper and Davis, a few seats to the left, prodding each other in hopes of getting a reaction and giggling until Melinda fixed them with one of her trademark glares; Fitz, next to Jemma, blushing a little (no one could deny that his girlfriend was stunning enough to give him cause to); Lincoln and Robbie (far away from each other) and three-years-married-and-somehow-making-it-work-despite-their-neverending-animosity Bobbi and Hunter, all congregated in the front row. Everyone smiled and waved; the atmosphere grew ever more cheerful, buoyant with excitement and hope for the future. And as the soft chords of a piano gave way to swelling violins and Elena gave the kids a fleeting wink on the way to the altar, Daisy became aware of the tears welling in her eyes. She brushed them away with surprise – she hadn’t expected to cry, usually didn’t – and her mother laid a gentle hand on her arm.

Maybe happily-ever-after was hard to find, but it was out there.

Elena was resplendent in white chiffon, snowdrops woven into her loose braid; Mack was almost certainly crying; every guest in the place fawned as Bobbi and Hunter’s two-year-old daughter tripped down the aisle, trying and failing to scatter white rose petals across the floor. And as her father recited the words that would bind the two ‘til death did them part, she didn’t even try not to cry. Not when Jemma and Lincoln sent concerned glances her way, not when her mother squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

But the waterworks burst open in full when Elena began to read her vows, the paper in her hand fluttering a little as her hand shook with nerves.

“Mack,” she began, “I have prayed for you, I have hoped for you, and against all odds, I’m blessed to call you mine. And so long as God has entrusted me with the gift of you, I will cherish the gift of our marriage as far as I am capable. What’s mine is yours, now and forever: my life, my home, my heart. And as we strive, together, to grow in our faith in God and love for each other, let us not forget the truth of these words. I have found the one my heart loves, Alphonso Mackenzie, and that you will always remain.”

Daisy and Jemma exchanged a glance. _We did that, didn’t we?_

She smiled through her tears as Mack read back the same vow. “I have found the one my heart loves, Elena Rodriguez,” he declared, and she believed it.

And Daisy applauded along with the crowd when the couple kissed, letting the tears fall all over again. _Thank you, _she mouthed, raising her eyes to the ceiling. _Thank you for this. For…hope._

And when it was all done and everyone in the church burst through its doors in a stampede not unlike those this very same building saw every summer, when campers rushed to breakfast after morning chapel, she dried those long-concealed tears and ran right with them. Jemma grabbed her arm and pulling her to the dance floor set up outside, on the very campground where Daisy had spent four of the best summers of her life.

“Hey, Dais.” Lincoln approached to stand beside them, slipping her hand into his as the couple’s first dance began. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m…great.”

For the first time in a while, she meant it.

“They really don’t waste time, do they? Straight from the ceremony to the first dance,” Lincoln commented. “I wanted to eat.”

Daisy smacked his arm. “Really? _Really?” _

“What? I’m _hungry.” _

“Second the motion,” Fitz agreed as he walked up and put his arm around Jemma. “Dancing’s great and all, but-“

“Oh, we are _definitely _making you dance after this,” Daisy interrupted. “And you’re gonna _love it.” _

Fitz backed up warily. “Should I feel threatened by that?”

“Careful. He might throw you off the dock,” Jemma teased.

“Sounds like a good time,” Daisy said. “Just like the old days, huh?”

“In more ways than one,” Fitz interjected. “I still can’t believe we did it.”

“Well, you better believe it now.”

They smiled.

They’d started on this path two years ago with little more than a half-baked plot and heaps of teenage enthusiasm. Even in their most optimistic hours, they’d never expected it to lead to this – a wedding, their youth pastors swaying to Sleeping At Last on the very ground where they’d debated theology and gone for hikes and played capture-the-flag and almost drowned. And now, facing adulthood, they’d seen everything that they’d worked for come to fruition against all odds.

Beyond a doubt, they’d been blessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. What a time this has been. 
> 
> It's been seven months since I started writing this, and though it didn't materialize the way I had hoped it would, I'm so proud to have finished. I'd like to thank my lovely friends who've been reading this from the start: Tori, @ohifonlyx33, who was the first and biggest supporter of this concept; Rose, @dayenurose, who begged me to continue this until I finally did (thank you!); and everyone else who's taken the time to read and comment. You guys have made this incredibly niche, personal AU an absolute pleasure to write, and I hope you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it. THANK YOU! 
> 
> Until next time,   
Sarah <3


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